


Tumblr Stuff

by Mauisse Flowers (Mauisse_Flowers)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Original Work, The Vampire Diaries (TV), Tintenwelt-Trilogie | Inkheart Trilogy - Cornelia Funke, True Blood, Z Nation (TV), iZombie (TV)
Genre: AUs for Inkheart, Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Background Character Death, Character Death, Draco and Lucy are children, F/M, Gen, Good ole Elejah, I like them, I love them so much, Multi, My three idiot babies, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Reincarnation mentions, Self-Insert, Temporary Character Death, because season four was bullshit, but at the same time not, hahahahah, pre-harry potter, this has a bit of my take on vampires and how they view humans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauisse_Flowers/pseuds/Mauisse%20Flowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuff I've written on Tumblr moved over here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “His fingernails were biting into her skin, like he wanted to claw her open”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt found on putthepromptsonpaper

“Stop it!” Blaine yelled, shaking her. “He’s dead! You can’t bring him back!”

It felt like he wanted to claw out her anger, pain, sadness, and every other terrible emotion she was feeling. It was unusual to have these kind of emotions all at once lately. Ravi, Peyton, Clive, and Blaine had been good at keeping them away.

“No!” She shoved back against him, forcing all her strength into making him let her go. But it’s useless when he pours his own in to keep her still. “I can still turn him! He can’t be dead yet! He- he’s still-!”

“He’s gone, Liv.” Blaine forces her chin up, forces her look him in the eyes as she begins to sob. “I’m sorry. If I’d known who it was…”

Blaine expects her to turn on him, to go “full on zombie” in her pain, but instead she crumbles against him. She clutches at him like a lifeline, hiding her face in his shirt. He wraps his arms around her protectively, as he’d done many times before this when she came off the brains of a particularly sad murder victim.

He hates that this is all his fault, that her current tears are thanks to his fuck up. Blaine wishes he hadn’t bashed Major’s brains out, that instead of grabbing the counter and ripping off a chunk that’d he’d instead pulled Major away from Liv.

Sometimes he hated how his Rage Mode only came into play when the woman he was in love with was in danger. Because he always screwed up then.

“Shh,” he smoothed her hair down, pressing his nose to her hair and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo that hid the smell of stunted decay. Then he rests his chin lightly on her head, rocking back and forth. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of this, Liv. I’ll fix it.”

She didn’t ask him how. He’d fixed his mistakes tons of times before, both legally and illegally now. Whether he’d call the police wasn’t a question (it was the only thing that could be done), it was whether they’d have Clive vouch for whatever cover story Blaine made or not.

Her crying begins to ease after some time. With a kiss to her hair, Blaine pulls back to have her look at him. He cups her cheeks in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “You should go take a shower while I call Clive and Ravi. It’ll be straightened out by then.”

Reluctantly, she goes upstairs. And Blaine turns to the corpse of Major Lilywhite, wincing at the mess. The night he decides to tell Liv he’s in love with her is the night everything goes to hell. Great.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he hits speed dial for Clive’s phone.

_“Hey, man, what is it?”_

“I’ve, uh, got a small problem.”

_“What the hell did you do? How do you a mess up a declaration of love?”_

“Her ex-fiance was a zombie killer and I accidentally killed him when he came to kill Liv?”

_“Wait, what?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: #Bliv #izombie #blaine debeers #Liv Moore #AU where Blaine wasn't seen killing those guys and Liv made him a better zombie #but Major still became a zombie killer and when he goes after Liv (not knowing it's Liv) Blaine accidentally kills him while protecting her #Clive does know about the zombies in this AU #he's been helping them find the tainted Utopium #Peyton is also aware but took it better than in the show thanks to no zombie fighting in the kitchen #I am so disgusted with myself bcs Major is such a freaking puppy imo #and I just want an AU where all of Liv's friends know she's a zombie and after a few ick days are chill about it #clive babineaux


	2. “I’d kill for you” “You’d kill for anybody!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt found at putthepromptsonpaper

Blaine shook his head, stepping closer. Liv took a step back, for once frightened by the man before her. She’d never seen him look so desperate, so broken. It was terrifying compared to the cold, calculating demeanor used when he shot Lowell or the build up of psychotic rage when she’d gone to save Major.

“No, you don’t understand, Olivia Moore. I’d kill for  _you_. Only you. You’re the only one who…” He reached out to touch her, fingers just barely touching her cheek, and she flinched back.

He pulled back quickly like a child who’d touched a hot stove. There was something in his eyes that made her useless lungs still, something she recognized from back when she had been human and about to marry Major. Back before the boat party and he’d scratched her. Back before she’d seen him with a couple of drug dealers and cut him from her life before he’d caused even a single good memory.

“No.” Liv shook her head, stepping even farther from him, fighting off the disgusted twist her mouth was taking. “You  _can’t_ be. Never in a thousand years would I ever-”

Before the words could finish, she was stopped by his hand over her mouth. Blaine pulled back just as quickly, swallowing heavily. “I know that! I know but I just, I just hoped that maybe, maybe you’d actually _trust me_  if you knew why I keep coming around, keep helping, keep looking for that tainted Utopium for you even though I’ve got weeks before I’ve got brain munchies again.”

Her mouth goes dry at the reminder. Jesus, she hadn’t told Major yet. Ravi had told her only five days ago, and Major had less than two months. How-?

“I know I’m gonna be different,” Blaine was going on, drawing her attention back to his screwed up confession. “Like I was before, and I want to find the shipment before because if I don’t then I won’t  _ever_. I’m not like you when I’m a zombie, Liv, I’m all my worst sins magnified and that means I won’t search for the Utopium and I won’t be-  _shit!_ ”

“What?” She prompts warily, eyes narrowing at his suddenly very disturbed gaze, eyes on his feet. Her hand bumps against a scalpel, and she wraps her fingers around it.

His fingers comb through his hair, eyes wide in panic. “I’ll find the Utopium before I turn back. I promise. You can even test it on me.”

Before anything else can be said, Blaine is rushing out of the morgue. He leaves his jacket behind, and Liv notices a slip of paper peeking out of the pocket. Her current brain is nosy as all hell, so she takes the paper out and unfolds it. It looks hastily torn from a book (a register, Liv later realizes), and the handwriting is a curling script she didn’t think Blaine capable of. It’s also a list.

> Reasons to Stay Human:  
> 1\. Liv Moore  
> 2\. Having my own emotions and memories  
> 3\. Having friends (Don E, Ravi, Liv, Charles girl, etc.)  
> 4\. Eating an actual burger  
> 5\. Most important- Liv Moore makes me want to live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: #Bliv #izombie #blaine debeers #Liv Moore #AU where Blaine wasn't seen killing those guys and Liv made him a better zombie #but Major still became a zombie killer and when he goes after Liv (not knowing it's Liv) Blaine accidentally kills him while protecting her #Clive does know about the zombies in this AU #he's been helping them find the tainted Utopium #Peyton is also aware but took it better than in the show thanks to no zombie fighting in the kitchen #I am so disgusted with myself bcs Major is such a freaking puppy imo #and I just want an AU where all of Liv's friends know she's a zombie and after a few ick days are chill about it #clive babineaux


	3. “He cried out, to the buildings, to the moon, to everything he knew could never help him”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from on putthepromptsonpaper

Loki rocked back and forth, hugging his sister’s wet body to him. He screamed until he was hoarse, sobbing like a child as he tugged his cloak around her cold body. He pushed her inky, sopping wet hair from her face and begged her to wake. Still, her eyes did not open and he was left in his wailing grief.

A heavy hand landed on Loki’s shoulder, and he looked up at Odin who stared back with cold blue eyes. The fire god cowered back, hating the color of ice and water and all it entailed. Ice belonged to his parents, both of which he hated, and water to what has killed Hel, his beloved older sister.

“I can save her.”

Loki’s shivering stopped, his tears still freely falling. He would do anything for Hel. Anything. “Please,” he cried, “please, save her! I’ll do anything! Just bring her back!”

“You swear to do anything, and keep this promise to me?” Odin demanded. When Loki nodded, he barked, “Speak it!’

“I will! I will!” Loki screamed over a thunder boom. A grin spread over Odin’s face, settling dread deep in the god’s stomach. But he ignored it, wanting his sister back. He could never face their bother Slephnir with this news, and he knew Fenrir would take far too much pleasure in the fall out.

Odin gave a nod, just once. The sharp cut of his young jaw was illuminated by the lightning crackling across the sky. “Good. Bring her to me.”

Loki stumbled to his feet, lifting Hel’s body into his weak arms. He almost collapsed under the weight and he promised then, to himself, that he would one day be able to lift ten bodies and never feel the shame he did now. Never again would his family be harmed because his fire was too weak and magic too novice. Never again.

The Allfather stepped up close, nearly brushing the thin cloak wrapped around Hel’s body. “She will not look as she once did.” Odin forewarned, already taking her limp hand from her stomach.

“I do not care what she looks like. She is family.” Loki dismissed, ignoring the smirk.

“When she returns to the Land of the Living, you must do this Loki Farbautason.” When bright, young eyes turned to him, Odin gave a vague smile. It hinted at a false kindness Loki couldn’t yet recognize on another’s face but his own. “Take her to the Gates your parents named her after. There, she must dwell in the home outside them and watch over the dead and dying.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “No! I can’t. Hel, she-”

He flinched back as Odin raised a hand, terrified of being struck. “You will do as I say, boy! She will go to Helheim, where she belongs, and shall stay there! If she ever leaves, a beast will walk this Earth.”

“My sister is not a beast!” Loki snarled, unsure of where the rage in him welled up in that flash of a moment. He only knew it was white hot, the kind Fenrir once described to him before choosing to leave them and join Chaos and her siblings.

“She will be once she returns to this plane.” Odin replied gruffly, lowering his hand to lay it across Hel’s cold forehead. “Hel Farbautasdottir will be a monster of bones. ‘Tis best to keep her in a house full of glamour, one where she is of use.”

Loki stared in shock at his king, eyes dropping to his sister when her eyes opened. Her green eyes, a replica of his own, were wide and glossy from death. Her chest did not heave with new breath. But all the same Hel was alive. Her limbs awoke and Loki helped steady her, almost quaking in relief mingled with fear at the chill to her hands.

“Loki?” Hel whispered, confused, swaying on her feet. “What happened? Where…”

Hel fell into his arms once again, unconscious. Her head rested on his shoulder, mouth turned to his neck and blowing no air. Angry eyes turned to Odin.

“She is dead again! You lied!”

“I told you, boy, she is a monster of bones. She is a corpse, slowly decaying.” Odin sneered. “You will take her to Helheim, and afterwards I have one more request and this debt is paid.”

“What is it?” Loki asked in apprehension, picking Hel up bridal style again.

“You must take me a cup from the pool of knowledge.” The fire god went white. Unable to refuse, Loki nodded reluctantly. “That is all. Now be off. The beast will awaken soon.”

“She isn’t-!” Loki jerked back at the glare sent his way, and rushed off. Silently, he sent a prayer up that Hel would one day forgive him for this.

Despite how much she loved their family- including their damnable and dead parents, Jormungander, and his horrible twin Fenrir- Loki didn’t think she’d love him after this. No one could.

But, somehow she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: #The Messenger Saga #pre messenger saga #Loki Farbautason #Hel Farbautasdottir #all the fun mythology shit #Odin Borson the Allfather #norse mythology #norse gods #THIS WAS REALLY FUN OKAY #putthepromptsonpaper


	4. Crown

“Lucy, what in the world is that?”

The eight-year-old turned, serious expression falling into calmness, hands still holding the crown above her head. “It is a crown of stars,” she replied, placing it on her head. “And I am the Queen of the Stars, and Advisor to the Moon.”

The blond boy frowned at his friend. “Why are you not queen of both?” He frowned further. “And what am I to rule?”

Lucy smiled, pale two-tone eyes lighting up. She reached out to take his hand, warm and smooth against hers. “I am not Queen of the Moon because that will be my best girlfriend. And you, Draco,” she stepped closer, “rule at my side as King.”

His pale eyes widened, surprised. His hand gripped her own slightly tighter. “Do you promise that?”

“Of course!” She giggled. “You are my best friend!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://dreamers-writing-rambles.tumblr.com/post/121072907128/lucy-what-in-the-world-is-that-the
> 
> Post-LotM and Pre-HP


	5. Hunt

Robin remembered his lives when he was hunting.

Robin had gone to find a deer and feed his Merry Men, Will Scarlet following him. He had the deer lined up in his line of sight, about to shoot, when the deer shifted and looked directly in his eyes. His lowered as memories flashed behind his eyelids, sending him to his knees.

Will had moved to help Robin up, but he shook his head, gritting his teeth in agony.

When Robin blinked open his eyes, he had the memories of a hundred years of pain and sadness, hundred years of happiness and laughter, times spent holding children and ruling vast kingdoms and fighting evil.

A shuddering breath left him.

“Will, catch dinner. I must go find Lady Marian.”

Before the younger man could stop him, Robin was disappearing into the woods, intent on awaking Marian’s memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://dreamers-writing-rambles.tumblr.com/post/121035544263/enchanted-forest00-robin-remembered-his


	6. Falling Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the many ways I've imagined these three idiots of mine confessing.

“Hope, come inside. You’ll catch your death out here.”

The redhead gave the fire god a dry look at this, quietly thinking of how that yes, she did want to catch Death. And a certain mischievous god, too. This development all thanks to Sif’s urging her to make the first move since neither male would. Of course, she also understood it likely wouldn’t go well with their egos and denial.

“I think I like it were I am. I’ve got a heater and warm blankets.” She tugged the thick, woolen shawl around her shoulders that Sif had made her, Hel enchanting it with ‘magical’ properties (it was always warm). “And then there’s this that Sif and your sis gave me.”

After a few moments, Loki came to the porch swing, sitting beside her. Today, he was dressed in jeans and a simple fleece shirt. His Jotunn blood enabled him to be outside in his birthday suit if he wanted, no matter how much he hated the cold. He reached out, taking her gloved hands. She could see the warm glow of his palms just before they clasped around her fingers, sending a shiver down her limbs at the sudden flood of heat. Not for the first time, Hope was glad that Anubis hadn’t brought any of his jackals, knowing they’d scent her immediately.

 _I feel like a high school girl_ , was her flustered thought, giving Loki a tiny smile of gratitude. He smiled back, it a little shy.

“Do either of you want hot chocolate?” Anubis asks at the screen door, bundled into at least four layers. The poor Egyptian hated continuous cold, but Hope had invited him for the weekend to the cabin her cousin Alfred had given her the keys to. (“Dad doesn’t use it anymore, and if you’re gonna get either of them to kiss or screw you, you need a week alone.” “ALFRED!”) When Loki shook his head, he looked to Hope, “Kamilah?”

“Yes, please. With some caramel.” She added, yawning against her will. Loki’s grip tightened a fraction, releasing a moment later. Anubis had yet to move from the door, watching them much like a cat did its owners.

Loki leaned forward, tugging the shawl tighter around the demigoddess’s shoulders. “Come on, we should go inside. It’s almost dark and the later it gets, the colder it is.”

Loki stood, tugging a hand gently. Reluctantly, she stood. Of course he was right about the weather, but she was hoping to convince him to sit out with her and they’d talk Anubis into joining. She should have known better, really, seeing as Anubis wouldn’t even leave the cabin’s heat.

“Is the fire going?” She asked Anubis as she wrapped her blankets about her before opening the door. Loki unplugged the heater, wrapping the cord as he made his way in behind her, putting it on the side table of the hallway.

Anubis gave an affirmative nod. “Yeah. I’m cooking a stew over it, and boiling the water for hot chocolate.”

“Hm, yum.” She followed him into the living room, curling up in the corner of the large, shabby couch Great Uncle Malcolm had brought up to the cabin thirty years ago. Loki took the other end of the couch, so she laid out to place her head in his lap. This wasn’t an uncommon thing, but his hand finding place in her hair was. Hope arched into Loki’s touch, eager for more.

“Do you want anything other than caramel, Kamilah?” Anubis asked as he poured the cocoa powder into a cup and added some water to create a paste. Then he added milk he’d scalded on the kitchen stove, stirring it quickly.

“No, thank you.” She told him, pulling her knees to her chest and shifting to smooth the blanket, tucking it under her. Anubis added the whip cream and caramel, handing it to her. Hope mourned the loss of Loki’s hand in her hair as she sat up to take a small, testing sip. The flavor was rich and smooth, burning her tongue deliciously. “It’s great. Thanks, 'Nubis.”

His red eyes lit up, the unsure tilt to his lips spreading wide into a delighted grin. “I am glad, Kamilah. I will make you more later, if you would like.”

“If I don’t fall asleep first.” Was her sleepy remark, taking another sip before yawning. Her smile, tired and beautifully endearing, had Anubis’s heart picking up speed against its will.

“Of course. But do not push yourself. If you are tired, then sleep. We will still be here.” He advised, watching how Loki petted the young woman’s hair and felt his longing to receive that treatment with her.

“Elskede,” Loki received a breathy hm, so quiet it was nearly missed, “go to sleep. We will wake you when dinner is ready.”

“…'Kay…” Loki took the mug from her loosening fingers, setting it on the side table. Hope gives another hm of appreciation before falling into a deep slumber, curling closer to him.

Both gods watch each other for a few moments. Then Loki slides his hand from Hope’s hair, heated fingers brushing her smooth cheek. Anubis stands to come crouch in front of them, and he presses a lingering kiss to the redhead’s cheek. She turns, hand reaching out and Anubis lets her catch his hand.

“Ana baħibbik (I love you), Kamilah.” He confesses, and Loki turns Anubis’s chin up to look him in the eyes before kissing the Egyptian. Withdrawing, he whispers, “Jeg elsker deg, Anubis.”

The wry smile he receives twists his heart. “I have always thought you only longed for Hope as I do.”

“No. I am selfish and want you both. Just as I know you want her and I.”

“This is true.” Admits the death god, using his other hand to gently play with Hope’s corkscrew hair. “I am just a selfish, and very possessive, god. But I do not want to run either of you away.”

“If Hope will stay when I have been convinced to start Ragnorak, I believe she will stay when you are a possessive– and rightfully so– god.”

“What makes you believe my feelings justified?” A quirked brow is what he gives Loki, cautious amusement present. “What makes you believe she would allow either of us to love her so wholly and completely that it would consume her entire being?”

“You are a god of death, and that instilled a fear of being unable to keep us.” He said it as though an obvious fact. “And because she has since placed trust in us. Her love and care is tangible as the summer sky. Out of reach and yet startlingly clear.” Loki smirked, it a bit self-deprecating. “I daresay, despite meeting you second, she loved you first.”

“Possibly, but I highly doubt.”

They both watched her, contemplating how to reveal to the woman with their hearts how deeply their affection ran. Anubis was well on his way to desiring to ask her hand in marriage, forgoing a courtship. Loki wasn’t yet ready for such a heavy step, the sting of Sigyn’s divorce of him still a few centuries too soon, but he was more than willing to love them just as he had her, if not more so.

“Y'know,” the sleepy demigoddess slurred, “if you want to tell a girl you love her, just say it.”

Both men froze, Anubis able to watch her sleepy grey eyes blink open. Her smile was one of a lovesick fool, and he knew if he let himself his own would match. “Kamilah…”

“Shh,” she pressed a finger to his lips. “No need. I’d heard enough.”

Hope looked to Loki and back to Anubis before settling on Loki, knowing he would be the most insecure of them. “Would you like to sit in the window seat and watch the snow fall?”

By 'sit,’ she meant cuddle. But whatever. There was kissing and hair braiding involved, the hair of which was much fairer and straighter than hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes bcs they’re needed:  
>  \- Kamilah means “perfection” in, if I recall correctly, Egyptian Arabic.  
>  \- Elskede is a Norwegian term of endearment meaning Beloved.
> 
> \- Anubis is speaking Egyptian Arabic when he confesses. (Though I’m 98% sure it’s w r o n g.  
> \- Loki is using Norwegian for his. (You should just assume I’m using Norwegian with Loki unless I decide to be an ass and use Swedish, Finnish, or Danish for some ungodly reason to fuck over my own canon. Which I’ll state.)  
> \- When Hope is sleepy nothing is very angsty. She just goes with the flow. Many people wishes she was sleepy more often because they wouldn’t get punched as much.
> 
> \- Alfred is Hope’s mother’s (Miriam is her name) cousin. Malcolm is Alfred’s father, who is Miriam’s uncle. They’re the only two in Hope’s mortal family who aren’t assholes.


	7. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on Elena's transition. Screw canon.

When Elena awakens, choking on water and gasping for air she feels she needs, it takes only a few moments for her to register the cold table she is laid out on. The next thing is the fact that she can't hear her heartbeat thundering through her ears like it always does when she is scared. The third is Stefan, staring at her as though she just declared her undying love for Klaus. Finally, is the nibbling of hunger in her stomach, but not for chips or a burger, but something much, much worse.

With the final realization, her whole body begins to shake, tears pouring down her cheeks and wails rising from deep in her lungs. She never wanted this craving. She never wanted to be stuck as a teenager forever. She wanted to grow old, marry and have children, she wanted to be normal.

But now, she is in transition.

Stefan, with help from Dr. Fell who's blood smells _heavenly_ , sneaks Elena from the hospital. He tries to take her to the boarding house, but Elena refuses, fighting tooth and nail, nearly screaming when he begins to take the turn that leads to the Salvatore home. Stefan takes her home, where a distraught Bonnie, Caroline, Matt, and Jeremy are, and where Jeremy does not hesitate to wrap her into a hug with Caroline close behind. Matt waits until they pull away to hug her, and she never questions the fact that Jeremy's, Matt's, and Bonnie's blood doesn't appeal to her, doesn't entice her to drink and drink and drink. They're family, not food.

Bonnie waits the longest, approaching Elena hesitantly, unsure of this new Elena, and Elena lungs into Bonnie's arms, crying with abandon against her best friend's shoulder. A group hug made of limbs and tears and sadness and glee ensues, Stefan hanging back after how rabid Elena had reacted to him and being nearly taken to the Boarding House.

He always forgets that, while he introduced her to the supernatural world, that does not make him the most important aspect of her life. The family she grew up with is, them having been their own strange form of normal long before him. Stefan begins to take his leave, but Caroline grabs his arm and yanks him in. This is the sight Damon finds, a group of friends in a pile on the floor.

He wants to lash out at Matt for not making Elena go with Stefan, for living while she falls into a state of being she never wanted. He wants to lash out at Stefan for listening to her, knowing her decisions never turn out good. He wants to be mad at Meredith Fell for giving Elena vampire blood when it’s well known she hates it, and wants to die and not come back. Because Damon is selfish and wants to keep Elena all to himself, but not if it will make her miserable.

For once in a long, long time, Elena looks happy though. This ragtag group of teens and supernatural creatures are her family, forged from years of knowing them and forged through hell and high water. And he won't ruin the moment no matter how much he wants to tear into Matt Donovan and his baby brother.

Elena casts him a glance with wet eyes and a sad smile, and before anything can be done Caroline has also dragged him into this pile of sappy teenage angst. It's amazing how little it actually irks him when Stefan and Bonnie put an arm over his shoulders, keeping him there.

All too soon the moment to break apart comes, and Elena immediately goes up to her room to hide from everyone, saying she wants out of her wet clothes, wants the blood out of her hair, and wants to be in warm pajamas. Jeremy grabs Elena's favorite sleep pants, the one with pink and yellow sheep, and a long sleeved shirt she hardly wears anymore, throwing them with a tank top and underwear into the dryer. By the time Elena has exited the shower, the clothes are on her bed, the right kind of toasty for her.

Bonnie had taken a ring from Elena's jewelry box as her best friend washed, enchanting it. Caroline used her vampire speed to go take a few blood bags from her house, wanting to make sure her best friend didn't attack Matt, Jeremy, or Bonnie after her initial taste of blood. Caroline almost had. When Elena came down, hair wrapped in a towel on her head, everyone was ready.

Damon had been pacing, wanting to hurry the process along. He knew she didn't want to be a vampire, but knew she wouldn't just _die_. And maybe, with her transition, she would give him a chance. Stefan sat, elbows balanced on his knees and brooding, hoping she'd take the blood but not counting his eggs, either. Jeremy waited on the staircase, wanting to be the first one there for Elena. Matt leaned in the kitchen with Bonnie and Caroline, blood bags on the kitchen counter and daylight ring burning a hole of anxiety in Bonnie's pocket.

She opened her mouth, and the words to leave them devastated the entire house.

"I'm not transitioning."

* * *

 

Elena laid on her bed, Jeremy curled up beside her with an arm over her waist. She could hear Bonnie and Caroline downstairs with Matt, talking soft but loud enough for her waning senses to hear.

No one had taken the news well. But at least only Damon had blown up into a rage. Stefan had tried to stop him, even as his own gaze turned desperate and disapproving of her choice. That was something Elena could handle, and did with an amazing amount of grace. When Damon moved to punch Matt, Elena had summoned an amazing amount of strength for an un-transitioned vampire and sent him crashing into the wall with a snarl to not touch her best friend. Caroline had been the one to escort them out when they refused to leave, Bonnie threatening to give them hemorrhaging for causing trouble where it wasn’t wanted.

After that, Elena returned upstairs to curl under her blankets and wait. Jeremy had joined her without a word, holding his sister and, despite how upset he was, never questioning her choice. He understood how she didn't want this life and never had, knowing that at this point he would make the same decision. It was better than an eternity of loneliness, especially if he had creatures like the Salvatore's to deal with.

"Jeremy, I'm sorry for being so selfish." Elena murmured, hand steadily stroking through his hair much as their mother had once done. "I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you, too. And taking away your chances to choose."

"It's fine, 'Lena." He tells her, voice muffled by the blanket. It's a lie, Elena can hear his heart skip a beat when he lies to her, just like Elijah said her own does with him. His heartbeat steadies as he goes on. "I know you'd hate it if you finished the change."

His hand tightens on her a little, and she can't help but feel remorseful of her decision. Elena feels like a terrible sister then, a selfish and horrible role model. Her heart hurts, knowing how miserable Jeremy would be, having lost Alaric and her within a day of each other, with Jenna's and John's passing so fresh. And even having their friends there wouldn't be of help to Jeremy.

The realization of just how little her choice in this mattered struck her much like a train did a car on it's tracks.

She shifted, using a hand to push herself up. In a second, Jeremy is sat up, helping her. He shoves several pillows behind her, carefully rearranging the blankets around her.

"Elena?" His voice is cautious, a raw undertone to it that says how close he is to tears.

"Get my phone. I want you to call Elijah for me."

"No need."

Jeremy tenses, turning sharply at the open door. Elena is shocked to have not noticed her friends going quiet and their ascent up the stairs with a new addition to the group. Caroline stands just inside the door to the left, clearly uneasy, Bonnie and Matt behind Elijah, one tense and the other unsure.

Elena's sallow face brightens back to its once mortal glow of health. It doesn't ease her best friends worry, but it does lighten the pain to know that _someone_ can make her smile in her last hours. Elena shifts some more, Jeremy fussing with the blankets and her clothes.

"Elijah." Is the first word to come from her mouth, said with a breathless admiration. If Caroline and Bonnie didn't know better, the name sung like the word _salvation_.

"Elena." He replies, his own care for her clear in his tone and the paced steps that bring him closer to her side. But even Matt and Jeremy see the falter in his steps at her sick pallor. A note of resigned defeat is in his next sentence. "You… haven't transitioned."

"No." She replied. "But I've decided I will."

"Really?" Carolina is already across the room, hugging her even as Jeremy says her name with a clear question at its lilting end. "Oh my god! That's great!"

"There's more to it though, isn't there?" Matt breaks in, coming into the room with Bonnie. "You wouldn't want Elijah here otherwise."

"Yes." Elena grabs Jeremy's hand as she speaks, giving a gentle squeeze and turning to look at Elijah. The Original is waiting patiently, watching as the blonde vampire pulls back from her hug to look between her best friend and him in confusion. "I have an offer to make."

"Yes?" Elijah prompts, coming closer to perch at the very foot of her bed, mindful of how much distance he has between him and Jeremy. He'd rather not upset anyone in the room by coming off as threatening when it is, currently, the farthest from his mind.

"I want to go with you when you leave Mystic Falls." She tells him. "I want you to teach me how to be a vampire and what it entails."

"Elena, you can't!" Jeremy cries, eyes wide and feeling like his sister had lost her mind. "You'll never come back."

"Of course, I will, Jer." She promises, smoothing some of his wayward hair. "But if I stay, and let Stefan– or Damon– teach me, it won't end well. They'll tear this town and everyone in it apart if I stay."

"If you go, they'll follow." Bonnie and Caroline said at the same time.

"No, not if they're compelled to let me go." Her voice got lower, eyes shiny but corners dry. No one fought her on this, the undertone of conviction like a jagged rock hidden below sea foam. Unseen but no less frightening. "Like they should have long ago."

"Only an Original can compel another vampire." Caroline murmurs, looking at Elijah out the corner of her eye. "So that's…"

"A partial reason I wanted to see you, Elijah." She agrees.

"This offer seems to ask a lot of me." Elijah began, looking well put together and at ease with the demands. He'd have done them without any flourishing words such as _offer_ or _bargain_ stamped over it. He owed her much more than this after all the pain his family had put her and her own through, after all the chaos he had caused her from even having other vampires looking for Katerina. "What do I receive in return?"

"A protégée," Elena sat up straighter at this, and he felt the words _I don't want you for a protégée_ on his tongue. He wanted a friend, and she was certainly that (he hoped, in any matter). "And a companion as you travel. I understand your family is scattered now, and five hundred years alone is already bad. To add more to it is cruel."

"While an enticing offer, I must amend a few things." Elena swallowed, the fear for the future in her eyes evident. Everyone present tensed, even as Elena's own posture eased at the gentleness in his eyes as he watched her. "I do not want a protégée, I want a companion. A friend, if you will. Someone to share in the sights and history."

Her voice is raw, as though she had been about to cry. A twinge of pain struck his heart upon realizing she had thought he would refuse her. "I can do that."

"And, if you would not mind, young Jeremy can join us. He can take his education abroad with online classes. It is his decision."

Her eyes widened, the offer playing to her interests instead of Elijah's. A human with them would require more money, would require care, and that's something she wants, not him. To have her brother with her, to look after him as she's always done, is another favor in her corner.

"I want to come." Jeremy broke in before Elena could say no. He looked at Elena. "I am coming with. You can't stop me.”

"You have to stay in touch with us. A letter, a phone call, a text message. Something." Bonnie broke in, look not unlike a scolding mother's. "Or I will track you down myself."

"Okay." Elena agreed quietly, and Matt was leaving the room to grab the blood bags. "I will. I promise."

"So will I." Jeremy promised, grabbing his sister's hand and squeezing it. Caroline pulled them into a hug again.

"So we are in agreement?" Elijah asked, standing to come around the bed closer to Elena. Caroline pulled away, siting to the side so Elena could reach out and shake hands with the Original. There was a snap of electricity between them, one that had Elena jumping and staring with wide eyes. A small smile twists his lips, wondering when the dead had an electrical current.

Matt came into the room, four bags of blood in his arms. "There's more downstairs. But I only brought four."

"That will be fine." Elijah told him. "You may want to move to the bathroom, Elena. Very few newborn vampires are clean with their first feed, whether from bag or from vein."

"I don't think I can." She said after a few silent moments. "Just moving hurts now."

"Hm," he nodded. He motioned to her body, "May I?"

The room fell silent, breaths held and unable to grasp what he just asked. Elena nodded before Jeremy could move to pick Elena up. Elijah was folding the blankets back, bending to slide an arm under her knees and across her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking at home like this, like it was a natural act to be held in the Original's arms when anyone else made it awkward and uncomfortable.

He carried her to the bathroom, bending to his knees to set her in the tub. She gives him a small 'thanks' and he nods, moving to stand back.

"Mr. Donovan, if you would?"

"Uh," shaking his head to dismiss the strange moment, he moved from the bedroom doorway to the bathroom, setting the blood bags down on the toilet seat. "You need me to get you anything else?"

"No," Elena shakes her head. "But I'd feel better about this if you, Bonnie, and Jeremy waited downstairs. I haven't been inclined to drink from you yet, but that may change after this."

"Not likely. If you haven't now, you won't afterwards." The Original explained, "We vampires are possessive creatures, and if you've yet to feel the urge to drink from them then they are family. We exclude family from our…" He tried to find a better term, but settled for, "meals."

"Oh." Elena took a blood bag, stomach churning at the red contents and its staining of the plastic. "This is gonna be nasty."

"It is for the first few meals."

"We'll go downstairs anyway." Matt told her at the door. "It might help if you know we're safe."

"Thanks, Mattie." She smiles, and pulls the plug from the bag. Taking a heavy breath, she wraps her lips around the end and takes a long pull. Gagging, she forces it down even as some of it spills onto her shirt. Elijah grabs it from her to let her hack and cough, heaving for unneeded breath. "It's gross!"

"You won't die now, at least," Caroline remarks, tears in her eyes. She wasn't going to lose any more of her family, not today. It was the best news she'd gotten all year. "I don't care if you think it's gross."

Elena asked for the blood bag, forcing the rest of it down. After a few moments, filled with licking her stained lips and feeling her strength returning full force, Elena reached for another and bit into it, draining it in seconds.

"I'll get a couple more." Caroline left upon seeing how messy Elena had gotten. Not everyone was able to be a clean eater right away like Caroline. "Be right back."

Elena was on number four when Caroline returned, having stopped to herald the good news to the rest of their friends. Three more bags were draining before the baby vampire stopped, taking a few moments to get her composer back before pulling at her messy, sticky clothes, wincing.

"Everything's ringing and the lights are painful." She said, standing on steady legs. "But I feel a lot better."

Caroline turned off the bathroom lights, pulling out the ring Bonnie had made Elena. "Bonnie made this while you'd been showering earlier, for when you changed. It's a sunlight ring."

"Thanks," she took it, looking over the lapis lazuli setting with interest. "Grams gave me this back in ninth grade."

"I bet Bonnie knew that," the two grinned at each other before either recalled the Original who'd been calmly watching, ever careful for in case Elena suddenly had the urge for fresher blood.

"How do you feel, Elena?" He asked her when she looked at him.

"No blood lust, if that's what you mean. And full, I feel full."

"It won't last long," Caroline warned. "But eating food and drinking alcohol helps curb it. I was always hungry an hour or so later when I first turned. I need blood every couple of hours now."

"As you get older, you need blood less often to survive." Elijah added. "A reason you don't see me feed often. Once every day, and on occasion every other day, is fine for me. When you reach the fifty year mark, you'll be able to feed as often as me. But for the next few months, you'll require a steady supply of blood. It won't be hard to procure in today's society."

He moved closer, towering over her. "Now, my question is this, do you want to learn to feed from the vein or animals first? Both are needed for survival. When on the run, animals are recommended, but we will be in many cities, and everyone is not family. After you've learned both, you can choose which you'd prefer as a regular."

"Which is easiest?" Elena asked.

"Neither."

"O-kay." She turned away, picking at her sticky clothes some more. She wanted out of them. "Then the vein. I'll start from the source."

Elijah smiles, it tight from his worry for her. But he knows she'll prevail and come out on top. Elena always does.

"I will go take care of the Salvatore brothers. I will leave you in Miss Forbes's and the other's capable hands for the next thirty or so minutes." Elijah stepped back, making to leave. Elena grabbing suit jacket stopped him, and Caroline looked away at the suddenly far too tender moment between the two. "Yes, Elena?"

"Thank you, Elijah. For everything."

Reaching out, he smooths an errant strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek when they pull back. In that moment, he knew he'd protect her against anything and everything if she allowed him, would tear the world apart if she ever felt inclined to ask it of him, and he would do it and all else she requested without question. He may not be _in love_ with her, but he was certain that he did _love_ her in some fashion. And it was a very dangerous realization to come to, which he welcomed gladly because he'd rather be at her side than another's. Out of anyone on the planet, she was the only person he trusted without question.

"You have no need to thank me. I would do this for you a thousand times over." He told her, and was gone.

Caroline and Elena stared at each other in the dark bathroom, wondering what had happened. Then the blonde moved to grab new clothes for Elena as she began to strip and start the shower.

Tomorrow evening, they all decided later around the dinner table as Elena drank another blood bag, the Gilberts would be leaving Mystic Falls for a long while with Elijah. It gave them time to say any farewells and to stop the Council's uprising. It was the last adventure they'd go on together, and no one had any objections to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: #TVD #Caroline Bonnie Elena and Matt are the best and I love them all so much #so they were heavily shown with Jeremy #BECAUSE FAMILY #The Vampire Diaries #what do you mean there was a fourth season where Elena shut off her emotions and was a dick to Elijah and everyone???? #whats a sire bond? #bcs there ain't one here neither #Fuck the Salvatores this season the overbearing assholes #they should have left her alone #when Damon isn't being a controlling asshole I find him pleasant #so took a look at that aspect of him before throwing him under the bus #can you guess my ship from this show??? #yeah totally not subtle hahaha #Elena Gilbert #Caroline Forbes #Jeremy Gilbert #Matt Donovan #Bonnie Bennet #Elijah Mikaelson #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #but like Elejah doesn't actually happen bcs Elijah loves her but not the I Wann Date You love #and she loves him too but not the I Wanna Date You love either #NOW IF i wrOTE THAT #THE FEELS WOULD BE MUCH MUCH WORSE #AND THERE WOULD BE NO PEACEFUL NEGOTIATING OR JEREMY COMING WITH #hhaha #I'm evil #enjoy this shitty one-shot


	8. The Fire Dancer and Fearless Child

When five, Hannahlee’s father, Andrew, takes the child to Germany over summer to show her some of what the world has to offer.

While there, he shows her where the Berlin Wall once stood, takes her near Aushwitz (the hallow foundations make the child shiver and cling to Andrew’s neck), and into the countryside where little villages are strewn about.

People there are nice, and along the way Hannahlee quickly picks up German, leaving her father in the dust with giggles. She picks wildflowers and learns to make daisy chains. Hannahlee also learns that there is a man who lives in the abandoned barn and feeds children to the fire he’s tamed so he could keep his youth. The girl calls them on the lie and she is forced into a dare that may end up with her dead, but her wild spirit was awakened with the trip from her comfort zone.

This legend is not shared with Andrew at dinner time, but she does mention how she is going to play with the other children in the west field where the barn is the next day.

When the morning arrives, Hannahlee, with her lengthening pageboy cut, dirty skirt, askew button up blouse, and messy sneakers, marches to the field with a group of tiny children trailing her and older ones leading her.

Hannahlee remarks that, later, it feels like a funeral procession. She also adds to herself that she must have been the dead body in the hearse.

The barn is old, like the teens said, but not as dilapidated as exaggerated. It leans, but the wood does not flake and there aren’t any shattered windows (there are no windows at all, for that matter, just rectangular openings positioned where the loft would be). She feels a rush of fear-laced adrenaline and realizes with clarity in her young mind that she is very, _very_ – as her father would say– _fucking stupid._

 _I’m going to die_ , is the second thought she has as she is suddenly surrounded by the village children. As she walks forward, amazingly steady despite her suddenly terror, the group parts like the Red Sea. A crown of flowers is dropped on her head by a tall boy who’s nine, his name is Albert, and she wants to punch him in the nipple for making her look like a sacrifice.

She is in front of the barn before she knows it. The door of the barn is steady, barely creaking with the shift of the hinges as she pushes against it. Her feet crunch under fresh hay, and a shuffling sound up in the rafters sends off alarm bells screeching at her to run.

But, unlike the cowards outside, Hannahlee doesn’t run. Instead she walks further in and, as dared, sits on the lowest rung of the ladder. At lunch, one of the teens will bring her a sandwich and water, then when Andrew comes to find her for dinner, Hannahlee can leave. If she hasn’t run away or is dead by then, Hannahlee wins and Andrew and her get a free meal at the pub (Mischa, Gilbert’s mother, will never know what dare he lost, just that Hannahlee deserves the whole town’s respect). Hannahlee will win, because if she deserves anything at all, it is respect.

It is nearly ten, according to her dad’s watch– the one he gives her in the morning so she knows when dinner time comes around, and the girl is feeling bored, hungry, and sleepy. With a yawn half-past ten, Hannahlee curls into the hay and drifts off into a nap. Something warm buries into her side, and there is the vague feeling of a body hovering over hers before something heavy and warm is draped across her.

When she wakes up, she is alone with a big coat over her, and Andrew’s watch says it is 12:30. The girl goes to the barn door and finds the wrapped sandwich and bottled water which she takes back to her spot and eats. She is careful not to get any crumbs on the coat, keeping the heavy material around her hunched shoulders.

A snuffle sound has her looking around, and sees a slinking creature in the shadows of the wall farthest her. She tilts her head, and hopes that it isn’t something rabid as she pulls off a corner of her sandwich and calls in a pitchy voice, tinted with the German she has been learning, “Hey, little one. Do you want some lunch?”

“I wouldn’t feed him if I were you.” A gruff voice speaks, and Hannahlee squeals.

The fourth of her sandwich not eaten falls to the floor. The child spins around to stare up, up, and up until she finds herself staring at a ginger head of stringy hair. The light eyes peering back at her are not frightening in the least, though the pain and sadness there make her want to hug him. Hannahlee knows the saying “Stranger Danger,” and is the only reason why she doesn’t hug him.

“Hello.” She whispers, unsure of what to make of him. He is also unsure of what to make of her.

The sound of tearing snatches away her attention, and she turns to see a marten with little horns eating the last of her sandwich. Silently, she mourns the loss but doesn’t dwell, watching how he eats with an abstract fascination.

Not thinking, Hannahlee reaches out and, ignoring its tensing and hiss at her along with a sharp intake and quiet “don’t,” rubs a finger over its head. Andrew often called her reckless with animals, said it came from how he was the same in his youth. They also seemed to share the ability to tame animals, as the marten continued to growl but, because she did little more than rub him, never attacked her.

After getting her fill of being stupid with wild animals, she turned her attention to the man. Her brow furrowed, thinking of what she wanted to say in German to him.

“Are you the man who feeds children to the tame fire?” She feels like she messed up in the sentence somewhere with how he stares at her. But then he is laughing, it soft and wheezy, and Hannahlee is more angry than worried. Standing, she demands with angrily shaking shoulders. “Are you or are you not?”

She doesn’t realize she’s spoken English until he is watching her in confusion, repeating the words in a mutter. The girl flusters, and asks again, in proper German, “Are you or are you not him?”

“No,” he shakes his head, a smirk of some sort twisting his lips. “I am not. Fire cannot be tamed and who would kill a child even if they could?”

Hannahlee stares at him, frowning. “The others _were_ lying,” is her angry mutter. “I have to spend a day in here for nothing.”

“Well, not nothing,” he says. “I may not have tamed fire, but,” the man snaps his fingers and fire springs to his finger tips. She gasps in awe, taking a step closer. Her eyes dart from his back go his hand. “I can use it briefly.”

She reaches out, to touch it, and the flame is gone when he opens his hand. There was a flash of panic in his gaze. Her pout would be endearing if it wasn’t for the fact she had nearly burned herself due to curiosity.

“You cannot touch the fire,” he told her sternly, an odd fatherly tone to it. It made her listen though, watching him in odd fascination. “You’ll be burned.”

Hannahlee nodded, clearly reluctant. He smiled after a few moments, a hint of nostalgia in place. “I am Dustfinger. Who are you, little one?”

Hannahlee contemplated her choices. Then, when she figured she had nothing better to do until dinner time, told him, “I’m Hannahlee. Can you show me more of your fire?”

Dustfinger did. He even walked her from the barn at dinner time, trailing her with Guin, the horned marten who was taken with the seemingly fearless child, flashing a toothy grin at any and every child and teen they passed. All of them went white as a sheet, whispering various prayers for their souls and Hannahlee’s. She introduced her new friends to Andrew, eagerly begging Dustfinger to show his fire magic to the wary father.

For the rest of their stay, Andrew and Hannahlee had a friend in Dustfinger, and he in them. Hannahlee taught him some English and left him a writing of the English alphabet with her favorite book– _Alice Through the Looking Glass and What She Found There_ – so he could practice. Dustfinger in turn teaches Hannahlee simple fire tricks to impress her friends with (the whispered “Fire Demon” and “Little Fire Demoness” are not missed by Dustfinger, but they are by the father-daughter duo) when she returns to America.

The fire dancer and fearless child part on bittersweet terms, both finding the other refreshing company, while the fire dancer and the military man part amiably. Then Dustfinger packs up his meager belongings and decides to take a trip to see a familiar face, a slim paperback book with a vaguely familiar alphabet tucked into his inside pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: #Inkheart #Dustfinger #fanfiction #ocs #I liked this spur of the moment thing #Dustfinger is going to see Mo #it hasn't been long since Risa was trapped in Inkheart FYI #so it's only been a couple years #Dustfinger thought of his daughter when with Hannahlee #which is why he was so open with her #it was really bittersweet #Hannahlee thought him HER fire dancer #and Dustfinger was kind of projecting his kid onto her #*shrugs*


	9. Meggie the Fire Tamer's Daughter

Imagine Inkheart AU where, when Meggie is still just a toddler, Capricorn comes to take Mo when Dustfinger is stopping by. There’s a fight and Mo ends up dying, and Dustfinger finds enough courage in himself to fend Capricorn off of this tiny, 3-4 year-old who doesn’t understand why her papa won’t blink or answer her. Then he takes Meggie and runs, doesn’t think twice or look back, not until he’s absolutely sure they’re out of the evil man’s clutches.

And then it settles in with Dustfinger that he has a toddler with him, her father had been slain (and Capricorn likely left the body), so people will be looking for Meggie and him, a man who’d be charged with a murder he didn’t commit. For a while, Dustfinger actually entertains the idea of taking her back, leaving her for the authorities of this strange, magic-less world to find. But then he sees she’s curled up with Gwin in the hay of the barn he’s hidden themselves in, her chubby little arms around the horned marten as she sleeps, and he thinks of his own daughters.

Dustfinger doesn’t take her back.

Dustfinger knows that they can never, ever stay in one place too long. He’d already only stayed in one place or another long enough to earn some money to eat and sleep at an inn for a night or two, mainly to eat. Now he can’t really stay even that long. Just enough to get food for them that can be eaten on the go.

But Meggie can’t survive like that very long, too young and feet too tender. So he learns to carry her, arms already strong from heavy lifting he does for extra coins and gaining more muscle with the child bouncing with each jaunty step he takes. And he works on the weak sewing he learned from Roxane and other Motley Folk back in his story, fixing tears and rips in her clothes, on his coat. He practices braiding on his own stringy mess, wanting it right the first time he braids her hair. When her clothes outgrow her or are too dirty and torn (whichever come first), he finds fresh ones for her whatever means necessary.

He nicks books here and there, using what limited spelling he knows to try and teach her to read and write, so when they’re in towns she can find her way to places if they get separated. (Meggie rarely leaves his arms or back or side, clutching his hand like a lifeline.) (Dustfinger learns with Meggie, but he never excels to the height she does, never reads to himself as fast as her, but aloud he can go like the wind.) Math is a subject that Dustfinger hasn’t ever really heard of, not past the basics of addition and subtraction with a dash of multiplication. Either way, he knows she needs this subject with others. In this world it’s required, so he takes little books on math and science and history with pencils for her to use. He explains how he can’t teach her, as much as he’d like to, and she understands.

At some point, Dustfinger begins to hope this child will be like her father (who she calls Papa, not Mo, too young to have called him anything else when he died), that she can talk the words off a page, and talk people into words. It’s a far flung hope, but Dustfinger is not yet ready to admit how much he cares for this girl, how he is willing to give up his story if it means protecting her, raising her unlike he got to with Brianna and Rosanna.

Meggie is a strong willed child, though aware of her limits unlike many others. She understands there are things they can’t and can do in a town. They can’t attract attention unless it’s through his fire-taming or her (weak) singing. But she wants to explore and look around, wants to be able to buy 100 books and have friends. She likes traveling, likes not having a set agenda and doing as she wishes (so long as it’s not dangerous), but friends and a constant supply of books are so enticing. Dustfinger never says she can’t, though it’s clear in her eyes those two things aren’t possible.

Meggie doesn’t completely comprehend this nomadic man, but she knows him better than she did if her father had lived and Dustfinger had never braided her hair when it began to pour rain, never tucked her into the hay with a blanket he took from a clothesline a town back. She knows he likes coffee with lots of cream and two lumps of sugar, but likes scalding tea better, just as she does. Meggie understands that, if not for him, she would be dead as her father or worse, Capricorn’s slave.

His story is one she knows inside and out, the ending tearing out her heart. He took the book from a store a few years back, wrapped heavily at the bottom of his back. It took a lot of cajoling for her to get Dustfinger to allow her to read it. Not ever will he allow her to talk about it, however, not wanting to know why she began sobbing each time she reached the book’s end, and could not look him in the eyes a week each time.

As much as he hated it, Dustfinger could guess what it was.

Then one evening, she is reading to Dustfinger, the story of a boy and a tomb and robbers, and suddenly the rooster in the loft has stopped shuffling and there is a heavy _bomp_ made by the impact of a body on wood. Her book drops at the startle, and Dustfinger is up the ladder much quicker than her, prepared to attack whoever it is if they lose a threat to Meggie, to his da–

He stops the thought, jolting to a stop at the sight of the boy rubbing his head and looking about the barn. Meggie is right behind Dustfinger, still on the ladder and stunned by this strange occurrence.

Dustfinger is torn. He is excited, but he is also devastated. Meggie will never want to read aloud again if it could mean accidentally reading someone in or out of a book of any kind. This also means he could go home, to Roxane and his two daughters, still so young and naive like Meggie.

The boy is named Farid. Meggie offers to try returning him to his world, but he declines. He hated his life there, and prefers the company of a person who would save him and looks just as grungy as he feels. This ruffles her pretty blonde feathers and Dustfinger must separate them. To his dismay, he can already see the attraction.

A few months later, it is near midnight, Farid is practicing his fledgling fire as Meggie reads with a flashlight. Then she closes her book and looks to Dustfinger, and offers to read him back to his family with a glance at the bottom of his backpack.

Dustfinger merely smiles and says he has found the only family he needs.

Meggie cries and Dustfinger, used to his child’s emotions now, wraps an arm around her shoulders to pull her close.

And she plans to read them all into this world he misses so much.

First, she must read Capricorn and his men into a story he would hate, so they no longer have to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tagged: #Inkheart #AU #Inkheart AU #meggie folchart #Dustfinger #Farid #Mo Folchart #this is what dreams are made of


	10. I Must Become (A Lion-Heart Girl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one True Blood self-insert I wrote a long time back.

“But, Sookie, is it okay that I’m asking him?”

“He won’t mind. Don’t worry.” Sookie assures as she writes down the address. “Just you remember to talk only to Pam and Eric, got it? Let ‘em know you’re my cousin.”

Hannah took the paper, entering the address to her phone’s Maps app. She pocketed the paper and phone, looking to her cousin.

They weren’t actually related, not directly anyway. Sookie’s parents had known Hannah’s father when he’d been stationed in New Orleans, and when it was discovered that Hannah too was telepathic several years later, the Stackhouses and McCullough’s had spoken and kept in touch. With the passing of Sookie’s parents, the connection had been all but severed if not for Adele. Then Hannah’s mother had died and Adele had been murdered, severing contact until three months ago when Andrew died. With no other family for Hannah and her brother Luke to go to, Britt too weighed down by college, they’d come to live with Sookie.

Luke had taken up a job at Merlotte’s, him urging Hannah to go back to pursuing her duel enrollment at college and high school just as she’d been doing in Florida while he got his GED. Using what remained of her parents 401K and Andrew’s GI, she did just that. It was a long drive to and from college, but it was continually worth every cent she spent. Sookie helped where she could, and Jason gave his own thoughts on occasion.

“I’ve never spoken to a vampire save Jess, either,” Hannah admitted reluctantly, fiddling with her polar bear tee. She always dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and if the weather was cool then a zip-up hoodie. Makeup was minimal that day, but could be heavier depending on the t-shirt. “What do I say?”

“You don’t say that.” Sookie advised. “You don’t act nervous, neither. Be courteous, because they’re picky about that kind of stuff. Jessica is great, but she ain’t old like Eric and Pam and the ones you’ll find in Fangtasia. You explain why you’re there, and be honest. They can hear our hearts.”

“Are they brain dead like Jess, too?” Hannah asked, recalling how Jess’s mind was blank. She was good at staying out of people’s heads, her restraint well learnt from her own wandering thoughts when thinking of her writing. “Do I gotta worry about them thinking crazy stuff?”

“No. They’re like Jessica.” Sookie sighed. “I wish she could go with, or I could. But, well,” she glanced back at the house where her daughter, Adelaide, was sleeping in her crib, “I’ve got to take care Adee, and Jessica doesn’t want to get mixed back up in the mainstream.”

“It’s fine.” Hannah grinned, pushing down her nerves. She was a Fairy (and hadn’t that been a hard pill to swallow when Sookie told her)! She could do this in her sleep, along with changing her hair and facial structure and mimic voices. “I’ll go in, ask the questions for my paper, and be out the door.”

Sookie gave her a kiss, and the young woman got into her car and began the drive to Fangtasia.  
———————–  
“Uh, hi.” Hannah reached into her purse, pulling out her ID for the blonde vampire to see. “Are you Pam? My cousin Sookie told me to come here.”

“Didn’t know the human had any cousins.” The woman arched a fine eyebrow, then motioned to the side. She noticed how Hannah had the same scent as Sookie and any other fairy, hers stronger than Sookie’s but weaker than a full fairy. “Wait here. And yes, I am Pam.”

She checked the other humans, letting them in, before turning to Hannah. Her well manicured nails were on her hips. “You smell like her and the other fairies. You a telepath too?”

“I don’t use it.” Hannah replied, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I have a better handle on it because I’ve got more Fairy blood in me than my cousin. I got a couple other abilities too, but they hurt.”

“Oh?” The other eyebrow went up. “Explain.”

“I can change a bit of my appearance. My facial structure, hair, and accent. I can mimic voices.” Hannah shrugged. “I don’t use them much neither.”

“Why’d she send you, again?”

“I didn’t say.” Hannah swallowed. “I’m currently writing a paper for my college English class, and it’s about the gender roles in ancient Norse culture. Sookie said to come here, find you, and ask to talk to an Eric.” For a moment, Hannah felt very uncomfortable, the kind you got when being watched and judged. Then it was gone. “She insisted.”

“Eric is not here.” Pam told Hannah, who nodded in acceptance. She figured as much. In all honesty, the young woman hadn’t wanted to come, preferring to use books and documentaries. “But you can wait for him to get back.”

Hannah balked, getting a smirk from the vampire. “Y-you aren’t sending me home?”

“No. Did you want me to?”

A flush coated her cheeks, looking at her sneakers. “I kinda did. She coerced me into it, using a lot of ‘best from the horse’s mouth’ and ‘like talking to a World War 2 vet.’ I caved after a bit.”

“She’s good at that.” She showed Hannah inside, taking her to the bar. “I can’t serve you alcohol, but we do have several nonalcoholics here.”

“Do you have lemonade?” Hannah bit her lip, embarrassed by how tiny she felt. Usually, Hannah wasn’t this shy. But <em>damn</em> if she wasn’t uncomfortable with all the eyes on her from the vampires and the lusty thoughts from horny humans pressing at the walls she kept up. It made her want to hide in the bathroom in disgust. A moment later, she muttered to herself, “All the thoughts here are uncomfortably strong……”

“Hm, I’d imagine they would be. You even had sex yet?” Pam questioned as the lemonade was set into Hannah’s reach. When Hannah wrinkled her nose, Pam sighed. “Oh great. You planning to wait for the right one too?”

“No.” Hannah shook her head. “I have no sexual attraction. A lot of guys at my high school call me a whore for not wanting to sleep with them.”

“Duel enrolled, interesting.”

“I get by.” A sip of the lemonade soothed her frazzled nerves. “I dunno if you’re gonna hate me for this, but I like talking with you.”

“Don’t get attached. I’m not fond of you humans, or fairies.”

“That’s fine. I’m not fond of myself either.” She took another sip, already feeling lighter, ignoring the partially stunned look her reply had gotten from Pam. “Are you really sure it’s okay that I’m here? Sookie said not to show I’m nervous, but that’s kind of hard to do when I’ve never even seen a bunch of vampires in person until I moved here.”

“You never see ‘em at night?” Pam rose an eyebrow.

“No. Florida means it’s sunny. And at night it’s really humid and yucky.” A soft hum passed her lips, carrying a few notes of _Over the Rainbow_. “Not good vamp spots with all the drug addicts and old people either.”

A snort came from Pam. “You have an odd sense of humor.”

“Oh, I wasn’t being funny. If I was aiming for funny, I’d be using puns and shitty dad jokes.” After a moment, she added, “And some dry sarcasm, but I ain’t too good at that.”

“I’ll be right back. If anyone asks to talk to you, or anyone comes over at all, say you’re here on Nu Blood business. They’ll leave you alone.” She looked to the vampire behind the bar. “You make sure she’s left alone too.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Pam walked away, heading into the back of the club, and Hannah turns around on the barstool to look at the bartender. Expression open, she asked him, “Is it bad to ask a vampire how long they’ve been a vampire?”

He gave her the same look an aggrieved adult gave a toddler that wasn’t theirs. “Yes.”

Hannah nodded, drinking more of her lemonade. “Thank you.”

“Hey, little lady.”

Hannah jumped, turning to look at the man. He was human, his thoughts loud and slurred. She opened her mind a little, and got a fill of his thoughts. She frowned at him. “Sorry, but I ain’t old enough for you. And I don’t think Bobby here would appreciate you hitting on his boss’s liaison.”

The man snorted, his Southern accent thicker is his drunk stupor. “Liaison for what? What even is a liaison?”

This time Hannah snorted, raising an eyebrow. She could have made a comment on Stupidity right here, but refrained on the fact she was technically Southern. “A liaison is a communication between companies and businesses. I work with the vampires and my fellow humans on the Nu Blood line.” She leaned closer to him. “Meaning you’re hitting on the person keeping vampires from preying on your drunk ass.”

“Miss Hannah?”

Hannah turned in her seat to face Pam, her smirk turning in a smile. “Yeah?”

“Eric is back and will see you now.”

Okay, now she was worried. Her stomach was suddenly in knots as she got up to follow the pretty blonde.

“Do all the human guys here hit on anything with two legs?” She asked, thinking of the man she’d indirectly threatened. Ugh. She hated being thought of as a screw and throw away. She hated being thought of as a screw in general.

“Most vampire men do as well.” Pam replied, opening the door to an office, motioning for Hannah to enter ahead of her. “You handled him rather well considering.”

“You get used to a lot of the mortal male populace being sleaze bags.” She shrugged, and noticed the dark blond. Hannah swallowed. “Uh, hi. I’m Hannah.”

“I am aware.” Eric was watching her much like a lion did a gazelle, which would be frightening if she wasn’t used to it. “Pam also says you are here about a report, and that Miss Stackhouse recommend you ask me.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “If you don’t want to, that’s fi–”

“While I’m not inclined to do so,” he cuts her off, and she notices the tinge of his native accent. _He’s Swedish. Huh._ “I feel giving today if you give me some information in exchange.”

Alarm bells were going off in her mind. _Abort, abort! Sookie didn’t tell you about this! Politely decline and go, girl! Go, go, go!_ “What… kind of information?” _You dumbfuck, you’re proving the idea of blonde humans being stupid true._

“You have similar abilities to the fairies you descend from, but your blood does not have the sexual draw the others do. I want to know why.”

“Well, I’m just not sexually inclined to anyone.” Hannah wasn’t shy about this matter, having accepted it several years before. Sookie had also spoken with her about it, explaining what she could about a fairy’s sex appetite and how Hannah’s lack of it was shocking. “Romantically, sure, I’ve had crushes, but I don’t want sex. Sookie thinks I lost it in the mixing of the fairy and human blood.”

“Interesting.” He looked her over, assessing. Then he said, “Sit.”

She did, reaching into her purse to pull out a bundle of ruled paper, a pencil, and a recorder. He rose a brow, and she gave a sheepish smile. “For every question I ask, you get to ask one?”

His head tilted, and he nodded. “Pam, you may go.”

She did leave, after an uneasy look between them.

The next two hours was filled with questions and very little else, and Hannah left with nearly all her papers filled and two spools of recording. A skip was to her step, chin up, and she flipped off the drunk man from earlier as she left.

“If Mr. Barker says he doesn’t count as a source, I’m gonna punch him.” Hannah tells herself as she starts the car.

When she arrives at Bon Temps, Sookie has her in a hug right away. She asks how it went, and Hannah shows all of her interview.

“For being the third vampire I’ve ever talked to, he was okay.” She adds. “I think he subtly hinted on my fifth question that he’d tear out any guy’s throat that tries to rape me after I told him I was asexual. Which makes him my second fave vampire after Pam.”

Sookie grinned. “I figured as much.” She frowned. “You didn’t find him intimidating?”

“Sookie,” Hannah’s voice is soft as she sits at the kitchen table, “every man is intimidating for me. Luke’s the only man I’m not scared of because he’s my brother.”

Conceding to the truth, Sookie sets a helping plate of food in front of her cousin, and takes the notes to read them in curiosity. The two stay up early into the morning talking before heading up to bed. Hannah makes plans to go to the library later that day and pick out some books for her paper to make sure Mr. Barker keeps his mouth shut on sources.

Sookie had been worried about Hannah going to Fangtasia alone, but she should have known better with how resilient the younger woman was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s late, Hannah’s last class of the day ending after the sun has set. She is parked far out, her first class not early enough to get a good parking space on campus.

She’s placed her purse on the roof of her car, bright pink backpack leaned against the tire of the car. Hannah is pulling her car keys out, texting Luke and Sookie that she’s at her car, getting ready to head back, when a shadow looms over her and her head is bashed into the car. The phone drops, clattering loudly against the cement, as her keys clang.

Her teeth rattle, mind blurred into a huge mess of confused pain. Hannah’s shoulder is wrenched, cry of pain a keening, animal-like noise. It’s more a squeak than a howl, but either way it carries how much the action hurts.

On instinct, from years of fighting with her siblings that turn from playful to violent, she lashes out with her nails. The man pulls back enough to be missed, and her head slams into the car again. This time, her recovery time is much more sluggish, Fairy blood slower than usual tonight with the Veil so thin.

Cold steel is pressed to her skin, cool air flooding her senses as it shoots up. A burn echoes from her skin, near her sternum, right below where her snapped bra band once was. Hannah takes a deep breath, smacking and punching, clenching her eyes shut as she opens her mouth wide and _screams._

“Shut up, you sick bitch!” A thick accent snarls as a hand strikes her face. The salty tang of blood blooms in her mouth, and she chokes on it. Hannah is crying now. “I’m tryna fix you! Don’t put up such a fight!”

“No!” She cries out, pushing at him. He catches one wrist, slamming in into the car. Hannah screams again, cut short by another hit.

She’s panicking, not comprehending why her Fairy strength, adding just enough to her normal body strength that she could throw this man off, isn’t working.

“Lemme go! I’m fine! Lemme– ack!”

The breath in her lungs, fought hard for over the last several minutes, leaves in a whirlwind as a fist connects with her gut. Her lungs rattle, throat spasming, and bloody spittle dribbles from the corner of her mouth with the loud wheeze she manages. It’s a breaking point, unused to such heavy abuse.

Hannah stops fighting then, too terrified to even pant out a scared ‘please no.’ She cries, hitching sobs as he tears her clothes apart with the knife. A wide hand splays against her throat, forcing her head back. His hand is slipping into her torn pants, past her underwear and–

She’s crumbling to the ground, curling into a ball as she turns into a screaming, crying mess. The man is gone, and she’s left to hide and screech and shake.

When large, calloused, gentle hands touch her shoulders, Hannah lashes out. Her nails mark skin, drawing heavy rivulets of blood. Her hand is coated in it, and the hand that catches hers is tender, careful in its hold.

“Hannahlee, it is Eric.”

The vaguely familiar voice helps little, but it does stop her from attacking him. Despite him being a vampire, she feels safe.

Bleary eyes glance up at him, tears still falling heavily. From the darkness around them, and the tilt of his head, through her wet eyes she easily mistakes him for the one man she, above all, trusts with her life.

“Luke.”

The name is reverently said, and then she’s wrapping her arms around his shoulders, clutching at his back as more screams and sobs well from deep within her soul. Her face buries in his neck, inhaling the scent of death and cologne that isn’t her brother’s but is still safety. Her knees curl in tighter, forcing herself closer to him, forcing him to hold her or drop her.

“Luke, Luke…”

Her brother’s name is repeated like a mantra, like the ever religious Hail Mary.

Eric is stunned into silence, unsure of how to deal with the girl in his grasp. He’s covered in the blood of the would-be rapist he just mauled, and yet she seems to not notice in her rocking and crying. All he is currently sure of is that this is Sookie’s cousin, who he’s kept a watchful eye of since her one-time visit a year ago, and that she desperately wants her brother.

This gives him the resolve to slide his arms under her knees and along her back to lift her. Her squeak is brief, before she is suddenly clutching him again and refusing to sit in the passenger seat of her car. It is hard to do, to make her release him from the well of strength she’s summoned from her Fairy blood, but he does.

Eric promises to be right back, and quickly places her purse and backpack in the trunk. There is a picnic blanket there, and he pulls it out to wrap around her.

Her eyes are more clear when he tucks in the edges and buckles her in, and when Hannah reaches for him it is with his name. But Eric pulls away before she can touch him.

Sookie and Luke have texted her. Wishes to be careful, a smiley added to Sookie’s and a See You Soon from Luke. If he’d been human, he might have felt bad about the irony of the statements with a sense of pain at how unwell the comments would be received at the moment.

So Eric pockets the phone, taking up the keys. He tries to sit in the driver’s seat but almost cuts himself in half. She’s so short that there’s no space between her and the airbag, something he thinks should be quickly rectified before she crashes and dies.

The seat is pushed back so Eric can fold himself in. The car turns over for a moment, long enough to be noticed, and he thinks the oil needs to be changed soon from the subtle smell he detects. Deftly, Eric pulls out of the school, careful to avoid the man he’s killed so the death can’t be traced to Hannah.

“Eric.” Hannah whispers after ten minutes of silent road. He had turned off the radio soon as the car started, thinking she wouldn’t take it well.

“Eric.” Shaky fingers reach across the divide, grazing his shoulder as if to make sure it is him. Chin wobbling, eyes wide and watery, she chokes out, “Thank you.”

Her pupils are dilated too much, so when she begins to drift he is quick to shake her back. If she died on his watch, having saved her from death once only to let her greet it again, Eric would be pissed.

The next hour is a long one.  
——————  
Eric pulls into Bon Temps slowly. For once in some time, he is unsure of how to proceed. It has been a few years since he last– since he last did anything in this small town.

“Eric,” Hannah whispers his name again, the first since she’d said thank you to him.

Without words he understands. She can’t stand. Won’t be able to for a while, probably. Both from the concussion and the shock of the rape attempt. As he kills the engine, Eric wonders if this is her first, and that’s why she’s reacted so emotionally. He’d imagine that after a few times, a person would grow dull to the pain.

“I will carry you in. I imagine Sookie and your brother will want to know what happened.”

Hannah stares at him, blinking as little as possible. He didn’t tell her she had a concussion, thinking she could deduce that for herself. Her choosing something to focus on– _him_ – is a way of her to stay awake.

Exiting quickly, he comes around to unbuckle her. Eric keeps her tucked into the blanket, the autumn chill settling heavily as the night drags on. Her arms wrap around his neck, cheek pressed into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, extremely slow and steady, enough to move the blood in his veins.

“Thank you.” She mumbles again, breath warm against his chest.

Eric doesn’t reply, paying careful attention to her breathing. He forgets that he no longer has an invitation to Sookie’s house, and is left standing conflicted on the porch. Hannah won’t be saying or doing much for a few hours, days even, so he cannot ask her to let him in.

He is saved from this by the door being flung open by Sookie. She stands there, a matriarchal goddess, taking the unneeded breath from his lungs. Her eyes are only on Hannah though, a rage building without the woman, ready to burst in moments.

“What did you do, Eric Northman?” Her eyes finally move to Eric, violence and retribution in them.

He couldn’t blame her from the amount of blood on his person, coating his mouth.

Hannah’s head lolls to the side, murmuring as her eyes catch Sookie’s, “Safe.”

“She was almost raped on her campus. I was in the vicinity and came to help.” Eric explains. “I brought her home. She likely won’t be doing much of anything for a few days.”

“Come in, Eric.” She says, quickly stepping aside.

He comes in, moving to place Hannah on the couch. When he tries to pull her hands from his neck, her nails dig in, panic in her gaze.

“You must release me, Hannahlee. I cannot stay.”

“No.” The word is whimpered, panic quickly rising in her at the thought of him leaving, of her protection vanishing. “No. No. No, no, nonono–”

“Hannah,” Sookie comes closer, careful with her touch to her cousin’s cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s me, Sookie, I’m here.”

Luke comes in, tall and angry, hair so dark a brown Eric wonders how Hannah mistook him for her brother. He sweeps in close to the vampire, not giving a damn Eric could rip out the younger man’s throat without a second’s hesitation. His hands are gentle, somehow far more than Eric’s were, and he calms once his sister is held close, her hiding to seek comfort in him.

“Shh,” he smooths down her disarrayed hair.

Luke sits on the couch, letting her curl into him. It is somehow far more intimate and far less disturbing than when she had hidden in Eric that way, as though the two have sat in such a way countless times before.

Possible, with her parents and grandparents deaths, that they’ve frequently curled into each other to hide and mourn and be scared without trouble. It makes so much sense it might have hurt him once upon a time.

Her crying in quiet now, but it does something to Eric that is an unusual and yet usual feeling. He recognizes it, but refuses to name the feeling.

Eric decides to leave before Sookie can say or ask much of him, not wanting to be present when she removes his invitation to her home or for Hannah to suddenly turn on him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hannah wakes up wrapped in her baby blanket, squares added over the years so it grew with her, and in Luke’s arms. Her hair is wet from the bath Sookie and Luke gave her, flesh damp with fresh water.

She’s in one of Sookie’s maternity gowns. She recognizes it from when she helped her cousin fold away the items after her husband’s death and their possibility for another child vanished. The fabric is soft, sliding against her skin instead of sticking.

Luke’s warm breath has chilled and dried a portion of her hair, the puffs calming her erratic heart. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, accessing the damage to her person.

She licks her lips, wincing at the sting. A split lip, her stomach aches with a cracked rib, her wrist is throbbing and her right eye is swelled to a near close. It isn’t comforting. It isn’t what she wants to be.

Something is pressing against her breastbone, howling to be released. She’s pushing it back down, strangling it into a locked corner with a fury unrivaled until that moment. Hannah will not let it overpower her, hasn’t in years.

“Hannah?”

Her gaze shifts down, staring into Luke’s bright eyes that hold concern. Something stirs again, that howling mixed with shame and an unfiltered rage she’s always tied down like her father never could. Her fingers flex, digits digging into the blanket. Harshly.

“The concussion is gone,” Luke mumbles, careful with his touch to her face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s fine.” Hannah tells him, swallowing and tasting residual blood mixed with fire and sandpaper. “Did Eric really bring me home?”

“Yeah. The vamp was pretty intense. Thought the blood was yours for a second. Scared the shit out of me.”

Hannah sits up, pulling away. Her brother’s alarm is clear, unsure of how to take her seemingly quick recovery. “His name is Eric,” she says, already rising to her feet.

“Okay, but Hannah you shouldn't–” he reaches for her, and she tenses imperceptibly. Then she eases because this is her brother, her vigilant protector, not some frat boy. “You should be resting.”

Her eyes are on the gauzy curtains covering the windows, usually open during the day to let in light. She scowls for a second before striding for them, undoing the ties to rip them open. “I’ve rested enough. I’ve been silent enough.”

Her lungs are screaming at her, not for breath but for the pain and rage and howling to be let out, to be heard. Her heart carries the sentiment, and that hurts more because she’s always battled between listening to her heart and mind. Hannah has always been too compassionate and too critical, and right now they are warring instead of working in tandem.

Her hands flex this time, from wrist to pinky, and they grip the curtains. Her breathing is in little pants, tight and terrified.

“Hannah,” Luke has stood, and is two feet from her, “come sit down. I’ll open the windows.”

“No!” She sucks in a breath, forcing her shoulders back. Hannah refuses to let herself fall. “No,” she says more calmly, “I want to do it myself.”

Luke stays back, returning to the couch but not sitting. Sam had let him off after Sookie had called in and explained the problem. Sookie and Luke had decided to not call about the body on campus, instead leaving it to be found.

Sookie had left the problems of the supernatural world behind. That meant murders too. The woman wasn’t going to drag her cousins into it, either.

Breathing heavy, Hannah works through all the curtains before walking shakily to the kitchen. Luke opens his mouth, thinks better, and goes quiet. There is something off about his sister, an internal battle that has nothing to do with last night and everything to do with who she is.

As he watches Hannah fix herself cereal, standing in the doorway, he remembers when, as children, there was always something wild about her. Like the human world, with concrete and steel and processed foods, wasn’t where she belonged. The world of the wild, with deer, wolves, and flowers was where she belonged.

They’d lived near woods. Woods Hannah entered into everyday without preamble, skipping school sometimes. Eventually Andrew and Renee stopped telling her the woods were off limits because she still went, and still came back covered in dirt with a fox to be healed, a tamed skunk, a slippery snake or some other animal.

One day she hadn’t gone to the woods, and soon she stopped altogether. It had been strange to see his sister go from dirty skirts and dresses with unruly hair to clean jeans and a ponytail. It was as though she’d begun to act like a tomboy, instead of be one. Her little games of fairytale and make believe had died, replaced with math and work.

To Luke, it looked like that inborn wildness and this forced tame were finally fighting. Or maybe, he mused upon their childhood, it always had been. One just had the upper hand for a long time.

“You want anything?” Hannah asks, Sookie’s dress dragging across the floor. The coral sets off her pale skin tone well, autumn tones best for the girl.

Girl. Right then, that’s all he could see his little sister as. She seemed so small and so sad and so, so angry. Like always, Hannah fought against these feelings, fought to make sense of them.

“Yeah. I think some Frosty Flakes sound good.”

Hannah moved to put the meal together, movements smooth. She set the bowl down at his usual seat, sliding back into her own. She puts a spoonful of flakes to her lips, chewing and swallowing. Her eyes are stormy, a whirlpool of chaos Luke can’t look at.

“I’m sorry.” Hannah says. “I’m trying to make sense of everything right now.”

“It’s fine.” Luke replies. “None of this is your fault.”

Her slender fingers tighten around the handle of the spoon, and it bends. Luke acts like he isn’t phased, but he can see how she wants to snap at him, to tell him it is her fault.

“The guy was a fucking asshole who didn’t understand you’re perfectly fine. In fact, he probably had something wrong with him.” Luke points out, then goes back to eating.

It quiet, taken up by the birds singing outside and the clinking of spoons against ceramic.

“Why are you so understanding?”

He raises a dark brown eyebrow, asking without words his question. Her lips are pursed at him, questioning and hopeful but so, so guarded.

If Eric hadn’t of killed the man, Luke would have gone back to finish the job.

“I’m your brother, it’s my duty to understand you no matter what. Even when you’re dead tired and talking about rigging your casket with confetti.”

Her cheeks blaze, and she looks away. “That was _one_ time!”

Luke smiles. “And it’s still what you want when you die, so it counts.”

Hannah smiles at him, it tremulous. Her eyes are watery, and the storm is breaking in them. The wild and tame has, for now, calmed in her. And he’s glad because, if he watched one win at this moment Luke thinks he might cry.

She reaches over, grabbing his hand and threading their fingers. The squeeze she gives is gentle, shaky. And he squeezes back. The press, the gentle reassurance that he is there for her, always, shatters her heart.

When she begins to sob, Luke is up and holding her against him. He lets her beat against him, the shaky ‘why’s sending cracks through his heart, but he doesn’t let go of her.

He loves his sister too much to ever let her go.  
———————  
Hannah comes in two evenings later with her hair chopped from her waist to her shoulders, curls placed in. Sookie takes a deep breath when she sees them, surprised by the drastic change. Luke isn’t very surprised, watching the curls sway and bounce from the couch.

The clothing is a shock. Scarlet body and little beige flowers with dripping sleeves and thigh length skirt, beige tights with black roses, heels the same scarlet. The make-up is heart clenching. Her lips are slicked red, eyes ringed dark, eyebrows pronounced with a high arch.

“What did you do?” Sookie breathes, Adelaide on her hip and the toddler staring at Hannah with wide, innocent eyes.

“I stopped fighting.” Hannah’s eyes are calm, not the tempest they’ve been the last two days. “Lafayette helped me accept it.”

“It…” Luke swallows, unsure of what Sookie will finish with. Adelaide reaches for Hannah, instead of losing interest as she has in the past. “It suits you.”

“Up!” Adelaide tells Hannah, and the young woman glances at Adelaide before coming closer. She smiles, the red of her mouth making Sookie think of blood and making her, for a split moment, scared of her cousin.

“Alright.” She reaches out, glancing up through thick black lashes, and Sookie calms enough to hand her daughter over.

Adelaide fits on Hannah’s hip as though she belongs there. She hugs the blonde’s neck and babbles and giggles. Unlike so many times before, Hannah nods and seems so natural with the child, instead of awkward and scared.

After that night, Hannah wears more fairy-like clothes, whether darker or lighter depending on the day. There’s only one true consistency.

Her lips are always the color of blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months pass in silence. No officers come to Fangtasia about the murder, but in the news there is reports of an animal mauling (Eric didn’t sink his teeth in until the man was already good and dead).

There is no word from Sookie, or Luke, or Hannah on the girl’s progress. Even Pam makes a couple passing comments once Eric finally reveals why he’d returned in such a pent up rage.

Then one day, Pam comes into his office, something in her eyes as she says someone has arrived to see him. When he asks to know who, Pam says they didn’t want him to know, but they weren’t bad.

Of course he knew this, Pam wouldn’t let just anyone in to see him.

Pam goes to retrieve them, only opening the door to peak her head out. There is some scuffling, and then Pam is moving to let in his visitor. The scent is vaguely familiar, changed just enough to confuse him.

It’s Hannah, her hair is cut to her shoulders with curls put in. Around her neck with her grandmother’s necklace is a peace sign with the asexual flag painted on it, a Celtic raven below it as her double pierced ears gleam with false gold and false diamonds. She is dressed in a rustic beige dress with black rose designs and a corset, tights black with a thin sweater. Her makeup is more pronounced, more daring, with blood red lips painted on and dark eyeshadow with sweeping eyeliner and thick lashes.

There is a new ire in her eye, much different from beforehand where she wanted to be herself and to learn, to stay out of people’s way. Now it is a challenge to the world as she speaks and makes her own way, as she forces others to bend for her. Hannah’s eyes are bright with this new self, as though she is drunk on it.

Her stance is that of a queen, coming to negotiate instead of seeing a familiar face. There is no fear in her scent, nor apprehension. Hannah is calm and collected.

“I came to thank you again for saving me that night,” she begins before he can open his mouth. Her words are measured. Not in the way of a rehearsed person, but a person who knows their self and their wants and needs. “And to offer my assistance when you need it, within reason.”

Eric waits a moment, to see if she has more to say as she stands at the door. Then he motions to a seat. “Please, have a seat.”

She does, ankles crossed under the seat and purse set to the side. Once again, Hannah opens her mouth first. “I probably would have tracked him down when I returned to school the following Monday and killed the man myself. I’m not violent unless I have to be, but I have zero tolerance for rapists and wouldn’t mind the blood on my hands. You saved me the trouble of hiding a body.”

Ah, now there’s the violence he’d felt bubbling under the surface, so unlike her cousin. A compassionate soul with a twisted set of morals.

“Has anyone else tried to defile you since?” He questions politely, though he highly doubts. And if they had, he thinks she’d probably have harmed them.

“No.” Her voice is firm, no room for argument. There will never be another “anyone else” is what it says. “And if someone did try, I’m not relying on my Fairy abilities again. I carry a knife in my bra and taser in my purse. I have alternatives in case of werewolves, vampires, or shapeshifters too, curtesy of Sookie.” Her eyes flash. “But I have a favor to ask of you, which is why I offer to help you to an extent.”

He raises a brow. “And what offer is this?”

“I need someone to teach me how to fight, and everyone in town is piss poor at it.” Hannah’s lips curl in disgust at this admittance. “You and Pam are the only ones I’m aware of that have even the basics in self-defense. Which is all I need.”

“If you expect to fight in a dress, I will not be able to help you.”

He can see the snarl she reigns in, saying with a tight regality, “I refuse to live my life in pants because men think I’m broken. Besides, skirts and dresses provide more flexibility.” Her eyes flick to Pam. “And I need to know how to use them against women who decide they can fix me, too.”

“A lot of trouble over one attempted rape.” Pam comments causally, to see how this heavily controlled young woman reacts.

“A lot of trouble to keep myself from becoming like the other 97 percent of asexuals,” she retorts sharply. “We are already a minority, less than one percent on the scale, so the fact we have such a high rate of rape– called corrective rape in our community– is a big deal. Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I do.” Pam concedes, and says no more.

“What do you offer in return?” Eric questions.

“I’ll help you solve any problems around here so long as it won’t interfere with my school life. Meaning Finals Week has me as off limits. I’ll provide any help with modern necessities, if you want to go outside for some time I’ll even provide a vial or two of blood.” Eric’s eyes widen a fraction as does Pam’s. “Sookie told me everything about Fairy blood.”

“The fact you are not asking for protection is surprising.” He comments after some contemplation.

Her lips curl again. “I have no interest in being a damsel-in-distress. It doesn’t suit me, Eric.”

“No,” he agrees, thinking of how she’d crumbled into nothing but tears and shakes not too long ago. “It does not.”

“So do we have a deal?” Hannah is already moving to stand, purse on her shoulder. Once again she had the stance of a queen, of a person who belongs at the top of the food chain alongside vampires.

“Yes.” He takes her offered hand. “I will teach you self-defense and, if you will let me, more.”

He plans to place her there.  
———————-  
“You need to put your hair up.” Eric tells her. It is the first instruction he has given her, one she refuses to comply with for several reasons.

“I won’t have time to put it up when I’m being attacked.” Hannah tells him. It’s the first sass-back she has, one that carries a truth he cannot deny.

“Then I’ll teach you to fight with your hair down.” He tilts his head, not agreeing but not denying the truth. She grins at him anyway. “We’ll start at human speeds first.”

“Use your full strength on me.” She nearly begs.

“No. You don’t need to learn to fight a vampire, just to throw us off.” He looks pointedly at the gold chain with the Angel pendant. “Wearing a silver chain instead of a gold chain will help too.”

“Over my dead body.” Hannah snarls, eyes flashing as her hand flies to the necklace.

Tonight, she is in pastels, flowers even in her hair. Like always, her lips are bloody. Despite the heels she looks a hurricane, ready to blow down even the mightiest of trees.

 _She truly does wish to learn_ , he muses as she pulls tape from her purse to hold the necklace down. _How strange._

“I will not be easy on you.” Eric warns her, watching her.

Her eyebrow raises, the fine arch reminding him of hisself from not too long ago. She then slides her foot back, planting firmly. A fighter’s footing.

“I don’t want you to be.”

He didn’t run at her like most attackers would. He stepped to the side, moving to feint and make her think he was going left. Then Eric quickly changed and went right, moving to grab her wrist and pin her. But she swiftly spun on her heel, jumping back before springing at his stomach to tackle him. They crashed against the floor, her fist flying to connect with his face.

Eric used his speed to stop her, startled by the intensity. He understood there was a buildup of rage, but did not expect so much. He threw her off, enough that she landed on her feet with a small yelp.

“You recognize feints, good.” He stood, brushing off his shirt.

“But they aren’t going to do that to me!”

“You wanted to learn to protect yourself, to fight.” Eric’s voice held a knife’s edge to it. “And I am teaching you that. You need to know how to not only be defensive, but offensive as well. Not every attacker will stop simply because you broke their nose and cock.”

She opened her mouth, he cut her off. “And doing that won’t always buy you time to get away.”

The Vampire Deputy loomed over her, and she stared back. He pointed at where her heart rested.

“There is rage buried in there, and if you don’t let it out, don’t learn to control it instead of cage it, you’re going to kill someone.” He took a few steps back, letting her breath. “I don’t think you could stand that on your conscious. You say you would have killed your attacker, but I highly doubt it. I believe you can kill someone, but not under the circumstances you expect.”

With a scoff, Hannah moved to grab the bottled water she’d brought. “And what kind of circumstances is that?”

“Battle.” He says firmly. “Your rage is a warrior’s, in another life you might have been one. I have only seen it in myself and those like me.”

Hannah didn’t meet his eyes at that, the word _warrior_ leaving a sour taste on her lips. She didn’t want to be a warrior, nor did she want to be a damsel. All she wanted was to protect herself. Eric noticed and dropped it, not wanting the fairy to run. She was his only connection to Sookie.

“Luke wanted me to let you know he’s thankful that you saved me.” Hannah tells him, licking up a bit of water that had dribbled down her chin. The curls about her head swayed as she fluffed them up, fixing the mess they’d become from their brief tussle. She smiled at him, it tiny and unsure. “I’m not gonna say it again, but you know I am too. Sookie also says hi.”

At Sookie’s name Eric goes still, unnaturally so. Then, slowly, he begins to move again. Hannah notices that he’s come close again, circling her like prey. It makes her skin crawl, teeth clenching.

“Miss Stackhouse is of no concern to me anymore, and your brother never was.”

Hannah could detect the lie. Luke may not have been a blip in the vampire’s thought process, but Sookie certainly was. It’d be crazy if she wasn’t. The young woman thinks over that for a moment, before looking at him and speaking.

“I think you may be trying to fool yourself into thinking that.”

“Thinking what? I’m sorry, Hannahlee, but unlike Miss Stackhouse and you, I cannot read minds.”

“You still care about Sookie.” It’s like a slap in the face, but he reacts to it with a lot of grace. “It’s a bit obvious, how you still at her name, seem eager to know about her. You don’t actively seek it out, because that’s _too_ obvious, but do try to listen in when you can.”

He springs at her, and she jumps out of the way. She blocks a hit aimed for her stomach and ducks a blow to the side of the head. Hannah kicks out, snarling at him when he gets her arm and pins it.

Heaving, she bites back bile when she realizes how easy it would be for him to kill her like this. Eric is also trying to regain unneeded breath, glaring past her at the wall.

“We do not discuss love lives when I teach you. That is not apart of the agreement.” He growls. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She hisses out.

Then she swings her heel back, connecting with his crotch. He lets out a breath, his grip not slackening, so she shoves back, using her elbow in his stomach. That loosens his grip enough that she can turn, wrenching her wrist free and kneeing him in the stomach while shoving him back.

“Don’t pin me down to make me agree to anything again. I will make her despise you.” Hannah stalks from the room, grabbing her purse and keys as she goes.

Hannah doesn’t return for a week, and when she does her hair is pinned up and her skirt is shorter with thicker tights and flats. She learns to defend, and neither speak of the fight they’d had, and he learns she likes puns.

The little fairy knows far too many puns. It’s disgusting how many she knows. Especially the cat one in five languages.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You make me think of Tyr.” She says suddenly, sitting on his desk and drinking her water. She is staring at him intently, her shiny blue dress offsetting her skin. “If you lost a hand, you could play him in a movie or play.”

They have been meeting twice a week for three months now. He’s yet to see an outfit repeated. And she’s moved from random puns to Scandinavian ones. They piss him off, but he holds it in because she’s just trying to keep the mood light. He can tell from how they make her laugh and eyes brighten.

She’s gotten more impish, and she’s actually hugged him. It was a shock when it happened, but she did the same to Pam as she left Fangtasia so he supposes it’s a form of acceptance from her. From how heavily Sookie’s and Luke’s scents wreath her, she must hug frequently. It is still uncomfortable to be hugged, and by someone so tiny. She’s smaller than her cousin by four inches, and yet they seem a mile.

He arches a brow out her, taking a swig of Nu Blood. “When did you begin reading the _Edda_ , little fairy?”

He’s taken to calling her that, since it makes her puff her cheeks like a chipmunk and glare. In retaliation she calls him an Old Viking. It doesn’t really hurt, but she isn’t really offended.

“I’ve been reading it for a while.” Today she has decided to be very haughty and forthright. An interesting choice in mannerisms. “I just never get much time. I prefer the Poetic _Edda_.”

He snorts. Eric is more tame around her, her lack of fear easing his shoulders and craving for blood. “It is a poor translation and homage. It is garbage.”

“Says you.” The woman sasses. “I think it’s wonderful. Even gives bits of info in the margins.”

“If you wanted information on it, just ask. The Prose is better and truer to the time.”

“It’s also the original.” She replies. “But I don’t have time to translate between school, homework, and coming here.”

“I believe that is bullshit you are speaking.” He sets down the bottle. “You seem to forget asking me about the life of men and women in the Scandinavian regions of the Earth during the Viking years.”

“That was for a paper. This is for fun.”

“Even for fun, it should be done correctly,” Eric declares. “Now stand, we have another set to go through.”

She groans, but slips from the desk as ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is a strange sensation, dying. Luke has never felt it before, not many have really. And yet here he is, his sister screaming at him as the world blurs.

It is dark out, the sun set low and the lights of the bar flickering. There is a crowd gathering, but all he can focus on is his sister’s eyes, a bright mix of blood brown and winter green, as they are stained by tears.

Luke was shot. His side hurts like hell. He knows this much, as well as the feeling of his sister’s hands, boiling hot against his freezing cheeks.

Sookie must be there, because there is a crying child and Adelaide is the only one young enough to sound so shrill. It makes his heart break a little.

“Someone, call an ambulance!” His sister sobs, and his neck feels wet with her tears.

“Move.”

Hannah’s head lifts, and she is looking up and up and far past Luke’s line of sight. She says something, a name or maybe a prayer, and then she is scrambling away. Luke reaches for his sister, brows puckering in confusion. He tries to say her name but his tongue is heavy, mouth tasting of blood.

Blue eyes are staring into his, flicking to and fro to assess the damage. “He will need my blood to survive until the ambulance gets here.”

The words don’t quite register, but he understands Hannah’s wracking, “please!”

There are fangs, and his fear fills the air, but it is not his neck that is bitten into. The man– _Eric_ , is the vaguely recalled name– bites into his own fleshy palm to bring a well of vampire blood up. He holds it over Luke’s mouth, tilting his chin to open his mouth.

The world tilts on axis as a few drops slide down his throat. The tang mixes in and sinks into his bones. There is an explosion of light. Darkness follows.

“Eric, if he–”

“He will be fine with a few drops, Sookie.” Eric says calmly, watching the wounds close up. “The ambulance can arrive and have a fully functioning human to treat instead of a dead body to bury now.”

Hannah climbs over him to haul her brother close, holding him much as a mother did their baby. She is crying loudly, oddly it sounds worse than the night she was nearly raped. He would have expected it to sound gentler, quieter.

“Thank you,” Hannah breathes, rocking her brother in her arms. “Thank you so much, Eric.”

“A pleasure,” he nods, standing. Sookie stands to the side now, Adelaide still crying but quieting as the crowd calms.

Eric makes to leave, and Sookie follows.

“What are you doing here, Eric?” Sookie asks.

“I came to see how the town is.”

Jessica is standing at a safe distance, a paper in hand and eyes unsure. The young vampire isn’t sure of what to think of it all. She has something for Sookie, and doesn’t want Eric to know.

“Well, you did. It’s fine. Now go.”

Eric turns to her fully, careful to keep himself calm. He doesn’t have the patience for a screaming toddler right now. “I do not see this as fine. But I have no room to judge, seeing as I do not live here.”

“You once did.” Sookie says after a few long moments.

“Yes, a thirty minute drive to and from my bar each night. A lovely place to live.” The sarcasm is thick, built up from the lack of use on the Fairy halfling he’s been teaching. She’d have probably stabbed him in the neck for any sarcasm, and it would be a pity to kill the girl.

“You know what, Eric?” Sookie seethes quickly, hitching her daughter back up on her hip. “You coming here to see how the town is was a crap lie and you know it. Why are you really here?”

“If you must know, Hannah did not arrive for our session and I was curious to know why. She has not missed one for the past five months.”

“Today was the day her father died.”

Sookie’s voice dropped several octaves, flicking around the place. No one had to know about it.

“She didn’t even go to school today.”

“That is why she was so hysterical.” He observes, glancing back at the woman he’s taken under his charge without meaning to.

Sookie stares at him for a moment, eyes a tad confused and a bit more calculating. “You care about her.”

“I do.” He agrees.

“You ain’t planning to turn her, are you? Because she ain’t too fond of the idea.”

“Not unless she asked first.” He tells her. “The little fairy is very opinionated and strong willed. Her becoming a vampire unwillingly would certainly lead to my death and that of several others.”

Sookie quietly agrees.  
———————-  
“Thank you for what you did last week.”

The two are sitting outside, Hannah doing homework she cannot put off until getting home. He is watching the trickle of traffic into his bar. No one has the balls to look their way, humans sensing he is dangerous and vampires recognizing him and his scent covering the young woman. He won’t ever bite her, but he’ll be damned if others think she is easy pickings.

“Once again, a pleasure.”

“No it wasn’t. You bit yourself to give Luke blood.” Hannah erases a mistake and tries the math problem again. “And he’s made a full recovery. He’s at home on bed rest. The doc said that if you hadn’t given him blood, he wouldn’t have even survived surgery if he made it that far.”

“He would–”

“Not have. I know. I was there.” Hannah sets down her mechanical pencil and looks at him. Really looks at him. “You act like such an asshole but you’re secretly nice. I get the façade, but why be nice to me if its gonna put a dent in the mask?”

“In a way, I am trying to prove a point.” He tells her. “That I am a man beneath the beast, can be nice willingly, and am not keeping you around just to eat you.”

The last one makes her blanch. “People think that?”

“Everyone here but Pam believes this.”

Her face contorts into a scowl. She is angry, exactly what he wanted.

“Would you like to teach them a lesson?”

A smirk slides across her lips, the wild in her piqued. “What do you have in mind?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What did you do to my cousin!?”

Eric looks up at Sookie, watching the blonde barge in. Pam stands in the doorway, not even trying to stop the whirlwind.

“What do you mean, Sookie?” He asks, not quite sure what she meant but an inkling was nudging his mind.

“She’s been trying to set me up on dates with people! Half of which are vampires!”

“Hm,” not what he expected, but not a shock either. “I haven’t done a thing to her. If you remember, vampires cannot glamour a Fairy, even a halfling. Perhaps you should ask her instead of coming into my office like a hellcat?”

“You said something to her, Eric, and it’s put ideas in her head that I need to start dating.”

“We do not talk of love lives during our training, Sookie. Even of others love lives. It is off limits.”

“I cannot.” He raises his hands. “It would be breaking rules we have set.”

The blonde sighs heavily, dropping into a seat. “I want my cousin back.”

“She never went anywhere.”

“You know what I mean.” The woman fiddles with her hands. “I miss the perky, happy young lady she was. She’s still a young lady, but now she’s more… unpredictable. One second she could be happy the next she’ll be raising hell. All over the same topic, too.”

“People change, they grow. Even we vampires do this. It is apart of nature and life.” He sat back, steeping his fingers. “I think that, even if she had not been attacked, this change in Hannah was coming. Just more gradually, giving you a chance to adjust to each switch. The attack caused her to do all the things she had been planning over time.”

“Planning? Eric, she doesn’t plan. She just announces she’s gonna do something and then does it.”

“You haven’t paid attention.” He raises a finger when she moves to cut him off. “She _does_ plan. But silently, or in unintelligible moves only she understands. Watch as her eyes begin to linger on certain objects, on something she seems to not like or be unsure of and suddenly loves. Hannah guards her heart and her moves closely, letting in only those she trusts to them.”

“I’m guessing she told you all this?” Sookie asks.

“No. She has told me some things, about plans she has, but those are her own and are secrets to be kept.” Eric stands, heading for the door. “I pay attention, as is my nature. You should try it.”  
———————-  
Hannah held the earrings, looking over the black metal with small, false diamonds with a detached interest. Sookie was over sifting through the dresses, though her eyes would flicker to her cousin in interest. Then Hannah set the earrings back and joined Sookie, finding a white sweater dress with pink flowers along the hem.

She held it against her body at the nearby mirror and nodded before throwing it over her arm, heading to the dressing room.

“Sure you don’t wanna look for any other dresses?” Sookie calls, getting. Shake of the head. “Alright.”

Sookie heads over to the jewelry that Hannah had been looking at, thinking of the clothes she owned and what the flowers could go with. She set them down and went back to perusing the clothes, wondering what else were in her cousin’s style.

None of them were, and she didn’t contemplate much further before Hannah called for Sookie.

“What do you think?” She asked, turning, head turning to and fro to look at every angle possible. “I like it.”

“It looks good. I say go for it.” Hannah looks at the price tag, humming. “What is it.”

“Just in my price range. Perfect.” She returned to the dressing room, coming back out with her original clothing on. She passes the earrings and, after a small hesitation, a quick decision in the grand scheme of things really, she grabs them to go check out.

“Find anything you like, Sookie?” She asks, and blonde shakes her head, dumbfounded by how right Eric had been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You could live forever.” Eric comments, tightening the laces on his friend’s dress. “It wouldn’t take long.”

“I love the night, but I’d miss the sun.” She sighs, sliding the last flower into her curls. “And I’ve just rediscovered my Fairy side, found the nature I’m connected to.” Her eyes are big, honest. How nice she is to him, the beast that should be her enemy from her fairy blood and his vampire status, stings now unlike it did twelve months ago. “You get that, right?”

Not really. He won’t deny her the mortality she loves so much, though, or the sun that burns her gentle skin.

“Yes.” He lies. If it wasn’t him, he’d think himself speaking the truth.

“Jessica found a spell. Got a witch to do it on Hoyt and her. That was five years ago.” Hannah turns back to the mirror, finishing her eyeliner so she could start on her mascara. “He hasn’t aged a day since, and she’s been around town a lot.” She glances at him. “During the day.”

He stares at the mirror of her eyes, unbelieving. “You are joking.”

“Nope.” She pops the p, and is smiling. “Sookie and you could do it later. The witch is still around.”

“I was thinking less of my soon-to-be wife and more of my little prodigy.”

Hannah makes a face at the title. “I’m not anyone’s prodigy. And you can only link the line between two people. Do it with Sookie. Y'all deserve it.”

He makes a soft noise. “Yes, we do…… but there are no others who would do this spell with you……”

“Don’t worry about it.” She does one more flick of her mascara. She smiles at him, cheeks round and eyes bright in happiness. “I want you two happy.”

His own smile is calmer.

Neither will ever realize this, not like Luke has, but just as Hannah would come home as a child with wild animals snuggled into her arms, and when a teen boys who wouldn’t hesitate to stab their mother would become her friend, she’s tamed and befriended the vampire before her. Of course, with anyone else he wouldn’t hesitate to drink from and kill them.

“Come on, I’ve got to get you to the altar and I’ve gotta get ready to throw some flowers.” She grabs his hand, tugging him toward the door of her room. “We haven’t got all night.”

“No, of course.” He smirks at her back. He thinks of a certain blonde vampire, his only progeny in his many years, and how fond she is of Hannah. Even if she won’t admit it.

_We just have eternity, little fairy._

  
——————–  
The sun was getting ready to rise, and it would be Erik’s first day in the sun where he didn’t worry of time running out. There was no Fairy blood, no grand spell behind it, just a simple one tying his immortality to Sookie’s humanity.

Hannah was already up, the shower running and the scent of her shampoo filling the upstairs. Luke was shuffling around in the kitchen, making breakfast. Erik and Sookie would rise a little later, and even then they wouldn’t leave their bedroom until much later.

Hair up in curlers, she is dressed for the day with half of her make-up applied. Luke hands her a cup of orange juice that she gulps down. She sits at the table and smiles at her brother.

“I like this change.” She says, after Luke sets a plate of eggs, bacon and sausage in front of her. Hannah takes a bite of her bacon. “I feel happy.”

“Because Eric and Sookie are married now?” Luke asks, confused by what she means. “Or that I made breakfast?”

“Eric and Sookie, Luke,” she rolls her eyes. “And you’ve made breakfast before, it’s not a big change.”

He grins at her, “Hey, I might start making it always from now on. Those two definitely aren’t leaving the room until god knows when.”

“Ew.” She made a face. “Don’t remind me.”

Luke laughs, sitting across from her. He drinks slower from his coffee. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes it own, answering with a “Luke, what is it?”

Hannah goes still, trying to listen in as she sets down her fork. She can’t hear what is said on the other side, but it sounds distinctly like Sam. She raises a brow and Luke waves his hand at her.

 _He needs me to close_ , Luke mouths at her. That causes her to breathe a sigh of relief. Closing is fine. If he’d had to go in early then she’d of been upset. This way, she could make him take a nap before work, since closing was at 6.

_Okay _, she mouths back with a nod.__

“Alright, I’ll see you at work, man.” Luke hangs up, pocketing his phone. “Ugh, I really didn’t want to close tonight.”

“Well, why’d you agree?”

“His youngest kid, Bailey, is sick. His wife goes to work at 5, so he’s gotta leave.”

“Oh.” She winced. “I’ll make some soup for them.”

“Good idea.”

The two eat in companionable silence, the only sound being the clink of cutlery and sip of coffee or OJ. Hannah finishes first, taking her plate and cup to the sink to wash them off and put them in the dishwasher.

Everyone can hear Adelaide getting up, her drawers and closet closing loudly as she looks for clothes. Hannah makes her way back upstairs to get the seven year old ready for school, giving Sookie and Eric more time to themselves.

“Adee, it’s Hannah. You decent?”

“Yeah!” She called. “You can come in!”

Hannah steps inside. “Hey, want me to help you find an outfit?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I wanna dress like you today!”

“Curls too?” She’s a little surprised by this. The little girl nods. “Well, there should be a curling iron around here. But you can’t wear makeup like mommy and I can. You need to get older first.”

Adelaide pouts over that, but doesn’t complain. Hannah sifts through the closet and, when she doesn’t find a dress Adelaide agrees to, she goes for the drawers. There she finds a bright pink skirt and spring green blouse, and Hannah helps her pull on her socks and tie her sneakers.

“Get dressed and head to the bathroom, Adee. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Hannah heads to her bathroom, knowing she had a curling iron from back before she permed her hair. She meets Adelaide in the hallway bathroom, picking her up to sit her on the sink counter.

“I want you to sit still, okay?” She tells Adelaide what she’s going to do as she plugs in the device. “And I’m gonna dampen your hair a little. She reaches into the cabinet to take out some curl holder gel and a spray bottle. She rubs some of the gel along, careful to avoid the roots, before spritzing the hair. “Now, you sure you want curly hair, Adee?”

“Yeah! I wanna be like you today! I wanna be a fairy princess.”

Hannah holds in a smile, though it comes up in a gentle look. “Alright. Hold still for me then, Princess Adee.”

The process is slow, careful, but getting to see the child’s grin and giddiness as her hair curls right before her eyes. When Hannah is done, Adelaide jumps from the sink counter to run into the hallway.

“I’m taking you to school today!” She calls after. “Mommy and Eric are sleeping in today!”

“Okay!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You would make a formidable mother.”

Hannah scoffs. “No, I wouldn’t. I have no patience for babies.”

“I believe you would have patience for your own.” Eric replies, watching her move. The past couple of days, Hannah had been taking care of Adelaide while Eric and Sookie spent time in newly wed bliss. She hadn’t minded, and the blonde child was always very understanding. “Believe me on this.”

“Eric, please. I really wouldn’t.” She looks at him, a pleading quality to her hazel eyes, and for once he drops the subject. “Children are just… not meant to come from me.”

“Adoption is a good substitute in this time.” He changes to a similar subject. “I am sure you could go through the process without trouble.”

“Until they asked about my cousin being married to a vampire.” Hannah says softly. “Then I wouldn’t.”

“Hm……”

“Besides, I don’t want kids.” Hannah starts again. “I’m content without them.”

“Just as you are without a companion.”

His tone is wry, gaze unflinching and calling her bluff. Yes, Hannah does want a companion, but everyone expects sex when in a relationship, something she cannot and will not provide. As such, she is alone.

“Yes.” Hannah stands, going to remove the curlers from her hair and start the day. “Out of my room, Eric. Go spend time with Sookie.”

“I have spent plenty with my wife. I have spent little with my prodigy.” He stands from the computer desk he was leaned against. “I have a proposition for you. One I spoke to Pam about already.”

Hannah glances at him in confusion from her vanity. “What is it?”

“Pam is interested in walking in the day again.” Eric begins. “And would like a person she trusts to preform the spell Sookie and I did. I recommended you.”

Hannah spins to face him. A half undone curler tumbling down to skid across her floor. Eric picks it up, never removing his eyes from her.

“You can’t be serious, Eric.”

“Of course I’m not Sirius. I am Eric.”

“You son of a– be serious with me!”

His mirth filled eyes ease, smirk falling to a smile and then a thin press of his lips. “But I am being serious, little fairy. She has agreed to it, if you will.”

“I– but what if she changes her mind?” Hannah asks, and her brother springs to mind. “And Luke, he won't– he’ll grow old. I’ll have to leave him behind……”

“It is a decision you must make. You cannot think of anyone else.” He tells her. “You may make a decision full of regret otherwise.”

He hands the curler back, and she stares at it. “You have plenty of time to think on it. We vampires tend to be patient creatures with those we care about.”

Her eyes lifted sharply to meet his. “I hope you accept, little fairy.”

He’s quickly gone from the room. As though he was never there.  
——————  
It’s been a week. She’s sat behind Adelaide, doing the child’s thick, blonde locks in waterfall braids. She wants to curl her hair like Hannah’s for a long time, but Sookie and Hannah both agree she should wait a few years. (Eric says Adelaide should be allowed to curl her hair, despite understanding how fleeting a child’s interest usually is.)

“Hannah, why can’t I curl my hair permanently?” She asks again.

“Because you might not like having curled hair for a long time, and it’s a lot of up keep for a child.” Hannah replies, untying the first braid to tie them together.

“I still wanna do it.” Adelaide pouts, and Hannah pats her shoulders.

“I know. If you feel that way when you’re ten, you can ask your Mommy about it.”

Adelaide turns to look at Hannah. “Okay.” She tilts her head. “Are you gonna do what Mommy and Eric did, and stop aging?”

Hannah swallows, staring at her. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because I think that’s what Eric wants. I’ve heard him call you lillasyster.” The child plays with her hair. “I think Mommy does too, but she hasn’t said anything.”

“What do you think, if I decided to be like Eric and your mommy?”

“Eric would be really happy. Mommy too.” She makes a small frown, eyes unsure. “Luke wants you happy too, but he hasn’t said anything.”

“Yeah,” her fingers run through the soft, golden strands. “I might age like you and Luke, because I don’t want Luke to age on his own.”

“Will you be happy too?”

“Well,” she sighs, a little heavier than intended, “sometimes you have to give up what makes you happy for other people.” Hannah gives the child a smile. “But don’t worry. Making Luke happy makes me happy.”

Adelaide’s frown is just like her mother’s. She doesn’t understand what Hannah means, too young to fully comprehend such a thing as giving up what you would want nothing more in the world to do just to make another happy. One day, in the future, Adelaide would understand.

“Why not you go out and play? I’m sure your cousins would love to see you.”

She hops from the seat with a nod. “Yeah! Are you gonna come play too?”

“In a while. I’ve got to do some cleaning.” Hannah watches Adelaide run off, listening to the child rush down the stairs and out the back door.

“Have you decided?” Luke is at the doorway now, watching his sister fold up her night clothes and straighten her bed. “It couldn’t be that hard.”

“It’s harder than it seems.” Hannah tells him after placing her clothes by the pillow. “I want to be with you and Adee for my life-span, but I also want to stay with Eric and Sookie and Pam. I have to give up one for the other.”

“No it’s not.” He comes in, sitting at her vanity. “You can spend your life-span with Adee and me, you just don’t age. Then when I’m gone and Adee is happy and married and with a bunch of kids and grandkids, you can leave and do whatever you want.”

“Luke…” She was staring at him with wide eyes, unbelieving. “But… I can’t leave you. That’s not what we promised when Dad…”

“I know,” he grins at her, though it’s a bit tired, “but we never expected to meet vampires or find out you’re a quarter Fairy, did we? Things change, and we can’t always keep our promises. That’s fine though.”

He stands with a heavy sigh, walking over to his sister. Luke wraps his arms around her, reeling her in close. Her face is hidden in his chest, fingers gripping his jacket tightly. Hannah shudders against him.

“Because everything changes, that’s life. It’s life, and you should live yours.”

“I’m scared.”

The laugh Luke gives reverberates through her, down into her toes. “Why are you scared? You’re not becoming a vampire.”

“Feels it.”

Patting her head, he steps back. “Don’t be so melodramatic. It doesn’t suit you.”

A wet laugh. “I’m sorry. But I just, I want this so much, but you–”

“Go let Sookie and Eric know you wanna make that deal with Pam. I’ll be fine.” He kisses Hannah’s head, pushing her toward the door of her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hannah places the flowers down on the tombstone. A familiar figure stands behind her, dressed to fit the current styles.

“Happy birthday, Luke.” She wipes away a little grime on the marble before straightening.

Pam, arms crossed, watches Hannah turn to her. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Hannah runs a hand through her wild curls, fixing the short, ruffled skirt of her dress. “Let’s go.”

“Our flight leaves at six. If we go now, you can grab a fast dinner.”

“You can get a bite out of a passerby, too.” Hannah pulls on her coat, looking at the watch that hung around her throat. “You think Sookie and Eric will meet us on time?”

“For your book signing or for the dinner after?”

The two walk in sync. The car beeps, unlocking, and Hannah gets inside the driver’s seat. Pam takes the passenger side. “So, can I speed or are you not up to glamouring an officer or giving me blood if I crash the car?”

“You can speed, and I’ll glamour, but no blood.” Pam is filing her nails already, shades over her eyes to block out the bright evening sun. “Your choice.”

“Speed it is.” Hannah puts the car in drive, tearing out of the cemetery. “We should visit New Orleans for the French Quarter Fest or Mardi Gras.”

“Yes, because last time we went for Mardi Gras it went _so_ well.”

Images of the slayer flashed in her mind, and she winced as she recalled the stake through the heart he took. He kind of asked for it, though, going after Sookie like he did. “French Quarter Festival it is. I’ve been craving some homemade jambalaya.”

“Hm, we’ll see.”

“Just us two this time. No parents allowed.”

Pam chuckles. Her eyes watch the green world pass them by. In the pasted 100 years, more greenery had been returned to the world, and the ice caps were finally stabilizing again (much to the excitement of a certain immortal halfling). Werewolves had finally come out of the dark, giving their own insight to the world of the supernatural and lessening the unrest with the vampires. She was glad to have a companion through this, even if it wasn’t her own progeny.

“You know,” Hannah speaks up, “I’ve been thinking of going to the Arctica to see the polar bears, do some studying for my next book. You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t think I can. It’ll only be you and me and a couple of researchers. They won’t have any Nu Blood on them and you aren’t a big fang fan.”

“Exactly.” Hannah pulls to a stop when a red light comes up. “Maybe you can hang with Eric for a while and Sookie can learn a bit about the cold with me. Or I can go on my own. Some solitude would be nice.”

The vampire looks at her companion of the past hundred years. The halfling looks better than she did thirty-five years ago, when Luke died. In fact, Hannah looks invigorated, and is finally planning things again.

“Either option is possible. You should ask Sookie first.”

“I will.” Hannah smiles at the road ahead, pressing her foot on the gas to go from 40 to 60.

“After all, we’ve got eternity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.polyvore.com/m/set?.embedder=14168232&.svc=copypaste&id=188040295
> 
> #TRUE BLOOD  
> #ERIC NORTHMAN  
> #SOOKIE STACKHOUSE  
> #SOOKIE/ERIC  
> #PAM SWYNFORD DE BEAUFORT  
> #SELF-INSERT  
> #I DO WHAT I WANT  
> #ORIGINAL WORK  
> #MAUISSE WRITES


	11. The Worst Kind Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> read it

“Why’d you always follow my lead? Even when you didn’t what to?” Warren asks breathlessly, hand on her side, trying not to lean like she obviously wants to. Murphy is ready to support her the moment her legs give way.

_“You’re not the boss of me… she is.”_

“You treated me like I was human, never anything less. You looked at me like I was human and to be treated as an equal.” It’s a partial lie. There were other factors in play in that moment when he was close to biting Vazquez, that was just one of them. “I wasn’t about to lose that.”

“And why you didn’t attack me on the rooftop so long ago?” She pants now, and her legs wobble. She falls against him, and his arms wrap around her. He trembles too, and the zombies around them stay back.

_“Listen: I am not your goddamn shrink. We did not come this far for you to-”_

_“Oh my god, do you even listen to yourself? Doesn’t that get old, saying that?”_

_“No.”_

“Because you believed we’d get to California and make a cure, no matter what happened along the way. You would have died to get me there.” Murphy partially lies. They both know it. He’d agreed because he wanted revenge, and because of her belief in saving humanity.

Doc was gone now. Killed by a group who wanted Murphy for a bounty. Murphy had killed them in return, sicking zombies on them.

10K was dead too. Right after he reached his ten thousand. He’d run out of bullets and had to kill the zombie by hand. It took a chunk out of his shoulder and he turned before Murphy could bite and save him. Addy Mercy’d him, crying the whole time.

Vazquez was dead now too, stuck in the middle of a horde. He was giving them an out, to get to safety. That was half an hour ago. Addy was dead now too, and Warren had shot her before she’d turned at Addy’s cries.

Now here Murphy and Warren were, Warren’s side scratched up. She’d have turned by now if Murphy hadn’t been spitting in everyone’s water since 10K died. It slowed the affects. She was panting really hard now, pale as a ghost.

“And at La Reina’s?” She asked, “When you could have made me a hybrid to do your bidding?”

“Like I said,” he’s trying to smirk, but it fails. He’s cursing up a storm inside. He doesn’t want to lose her. He thinks he could get past everyone else, but not her. She had believed so hard and kept him human so long. But he only had three choices, and he hated them all. He wanted her human, all human, all the time. “I like you just the way you are.”

“Don’t let me turn,” Warren pants. “Don’t let me.”

“I couldn’t, not ever.” He promises.

“Why?” Seems like she’s hellbent on getting him to confess. “Why not?”

“Because I…” It seemed to have always been there. Not since they first met, but close enough. He cared about her. A lot. A lot more than he did the others. Her dying was something he couldn’t allow. But he couldn’t make her into Cassandra. He didn’t want that. He wanted Roberta Warren. The worst kind of love was the love that never happened, he was once told. He felt it was true right then. “I love you.”

Her trembling hands raise, bloody and calloused and of her own accord. She brings his face down, and kisses him, weakly but no less truthful. And he sees all the times she looked a little too long, smiled too warmly, and he understands now. Warren lets him go, and he’s staring at her with wide eyes, trembling now himself.

“Don’t let me turn, Murphy,” she pants out. And he can feel her slipping. “Make me a hybrid, shoot me, anything but let me become what they are.”

“I can’t. I couldn’t.” He’s selfish, he’s so selfish. He couldn’t kill her. Not anymore. He wants to keep her, but not some shell of Warren. He wants to keep Warren. And whatever strength he could have dug up to kill her was gone the moment they kissed. “Warren, don’t make me.”

She knows which choice he was talking about, and her heart, so weak, thrums against her chest desperately. Warren doesn’t like this choice either, but it’s the only one. If she became a zombie… she couldn’t imagine what would happen to him. Warren realized long before him what happened between them, and she mourned the loss way before him.

Her fingers dig into his shirt, tugging in short bursts of dying strength. He lowers his shoulders, and then her fingers move up to the back of his head, pushing down toward her neck. Murphy seizes up, only follow her lead because of his fear of what would happen if she had to exert more force than she already had.

“Then bite me. Please.” She’d never sounded so sad, so lonely. And he thinks he sounds the same when he whispers, “Please, don’t make me do this.”

“Murphy, please.”

He shakes, hand raising to move aside her shirt and reveal her shoulder. He gasps, something like a sob catching in his throat, and he presses one less kiss to her lips, silently begging for her to change her mind, before he sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

Murphy shoots up with a strangled cry, looking around. Everyone was still alive. 10K and Addy huddled close, sharing heat, and Vazquez on the outskirts of their group as sleeping protection. Doc was curled near where Warren was sat up opposite Murphy in the tunnel, both sleeping soundly. He rises to his feet, shaking all over, and walks away toward the shuffling further up the tunnel. There’s grating above him and he watches zombies drag past it.

Soon, a new presence joins him. Murphy knows who it is without turning.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“You could say that.”


	12. A Crush Never Hurt Anybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love my trash. I am trash. Welcome to Warphy Trashland, population 1.

If you asked Warren what the strangest part of the journey to California was, she would not say it was Murphy turning into a zombie Jesus or the zombie-killing cheese wheel. No, no.

It was the fact she liked the blue skinned asshole. Because of that, she sat glaring at him over the slow rise and fall of chests and sides. He was asleep, hands overlapping his chest as he leaned against a tree. Warren cleaned her gun, refusing to reflect on when she started to like him. Just that, at some point, she did. She didn’t want to know the specifics.

“If you keep glaring like that, I’m probably gonna die.” Murphy mumbles, cracking a tinted blue eye open.

“Can’t sleep?” She asks instead of replying.

“Could say that,” he sits up, watching her a lot calmer than she was him. “What did I do this time?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “You nervous? We’re almost there.”

“A little bit,” he admits after a moment. _But nothing we can’t handle_ is left unsaid. They know that by now with everything their group had gone through.

They end up sitting there, quiet, and before Warren knows it she’s drifting off. She jerks awake when something warm and heavy lays across her shoulders, and she realizes sleepily that it’s Murphy’s coat. He smirks at her, a tired gleam to his eyes.

“Get some rest. I’ll take watch.” Murphy turns away, and Warren gets pissed about how much she likes the curve of his shoulders and how goddamn cocky he is. She settles back against her tree though, turning her face into the collar of the dusty, ratty thing. It smells like decay and sweat and a strange Murphy smell, and she hates it just as much as she likes it.

Warren falls asleep easily, undisturbed the rest of the night. Two zombies find them, but Murphy easily turns them away. And maybe he keeps a hand close enough to Warren’s to barely brush but no one is watching and everyone is asleep so it doesn’t really matter.


End file.
